The Scream of a Silent Soul
by random-chan
Summary: CHAPTER 23 IS UP! Hermione is dead, and it's Harry and Ron's fault. But what they don't know is that Hermione is still at Hogwarts, right under their noses. Rated PG-13 for swearing and violence in later chapters. PLEASE RR!
1. Chapters 1 through 9

DISCLAIMER: All characters, names, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling. No profit is being made of any sort. 

Author's Note: Hi! Please read and review, I would love to get feedback! I'm not great at English, but I tried my best and I hope you like it. Any type of feedback is welcome. Criticisms with good grounds will help make it better. I technically have nine chapters on this page, but I decided to combine them all into one since my chapters tend to be very short in the beginning. They will get longer, I promise.

*******Story Key – 

::: . . . ::: = A/N

" . . . " = Spoken

/ . . . /  = Thought

Chapter 1: The Hospital Room 

She's gone.

Harry continued to stare at the bed where she once lay. It was shining a brilliant white from the light spilling in through the open window, as if an angel had blessed it. But there was no light in Harry's mind. Instead it was cloaked with a shadow of darkness that haunted him and refused to disappear.

A cold blow of wind flowed in from outside. The icy breeze whipped around him, causing tiny bumps to form on his bare arms. He shivered.

It had been a week since Hermione died, but he still was in shock. One day she was there, flipping her hair, smiling, scolding him about not doing his homework, and the next day . . .

_It's my fault_, Harry told himself. _I was there. I could have stopped it. I could have saved her._

He had been engulfed into a sea of guilt from the moment he laid eyes on her cold, lifeless body. To Harry, there was no denying who was responsible for Hermione's death.

_She died for me. She died to save me._

He was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't hear someone enter the hospital room.

"Harry?"

He jumped, startled, upon hearing his name. Spinning around in confusion, he realized it was only Ron who was standing across the room with a face full of concern.

"Harry, are you all right?" Ron sounded panicky.

_How can I be all right?_Harry thought to himself. _She's gone, and it's my fault . . ._

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, trying to keep his voice as calm and steady as he could. He masked his grief, even managing to give a weak smile.

Ron didn't buy that answer, and Harry didn't exactly expect him to. "Harry, I know it's been hard for you since . . . since it happened, and it's hard on me too . . . "

_Not as much,_ Harry thought bitterly.

" . . . I know," Ron continued, "I miss her too. I've cried about it too. But, Harry, don't you think it's time to get over it?"

Harry's eyes widened. _How dare he say that!_

His mask dissolving into the true emotion within him: anger. Gritting his teeth, he felt his blood starting to boil.

"Get over it? Get over it?!" He screamed as a fit of rage exploded and overflowed from within. "You want me just to forget about it, like that?! Isn't it a big deal to you?! Are you heartless, Ron?!" 

Harry glanced at Ron and instantly bit his tongue. The anger dissolved as soon as he saw how hurt Ron looked.

"Ron . . . " He said weakly, "Ron, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that . . . It's just . . . "

He paused, not knowing what to say. "I'm sorry," he said again, feeling it was the only thing to say.

"I know you didn't mean that, Harry," Ron said. "I understand. It hurts. It hurts like hell." His eyes were focused on Harry's own. "But you know you can't go on like this. No one can. She – "

He paused for a moment to allow the words to flow from his mouth with meaning.

"Hermione wouldn't have wanted you to," he finished.

Small tears filled Harry's eyes at the mention of her name, but he blinked them away before Ron could notice. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Ron smiled weakly. "Come on, Harry. It's time for Transfiguration, and we both know first hand how much Professor McGonagall hates tardiness."

Harry smiled in return. "OK, I'm coming," he said. He rose and joined Ron. They both left the room, but before leaving Harry took a moment to take one last glance at the hospital bed. _Why her, not me? She never deserved to die._

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Chapter 2: The Tortured Soul

Hermione awoke with a start. She was sitting on the stone floor of a dark room, completely black except for a little candle in one corner. Not recognizing a think, she hadn't the slightest clue where she was.

She was suddenly engulfed in pain. It was pain like nothing she had ever experienced in her life. Her head throbbed, her chest pounded, and it felt as if every part of her body was being torn apart.

Hermione opened her mouth to scream, but not a sound came out. She tried again, and again, but it she was robbed of her voice. The pain tore at her until her body and mind could not bear it. She slumped against the cold wall behind her and passed out.

The small, dancing flame was the only witness.

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She woke up again a while later. The pain had numbed a bit, but did not disappear. She was still in the dark room, with the little candle and the stone floor. 

Alone.

Helpless.

Then Hermione realized that she wasn't breathing. She tried to inhale, but instead was punched by another round of sharp pain. She doubled over, clutching her stomach. After what seemed like many long, torturing hours, it eased.

She was completely miserable, and couldn't even cry. She didn't feel human, but instead some form of a monster or beast.

She looked down and jumped at what she saw.

Her legs were white. The school uniform she was wearing was white. Every part of her was shining a transparent glow of white. Hermione stared at her hands. They were white and glowing. The white flooded her eyes. She closed them.

She tried to cry again. She couldn't. The tears wouldn't come, not matter how hard she pushed or how tormented she felt.

I want to die. This must be hell. I want to die. I want to get out of this room, far away, away from this loneliness and pain.

Hermione's weariness gradually overcame her. An uneasy sleep slowly ensnared her.

The flame looked on.

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She woke up for the third time. The pain had almost gone, with the ripping reduced to a throbbing. It was still the same room, with the candle and the darkness.

But something new had appeared in the room. There was a tall mirror next to the candle. It shined from the light of the candle, slightly illuminating the room.

Hermione, being curious, got on her feet and walked to the mirror, daring to look into it.

She saw herself. She looked just like she had before being transported into this room, except for the eerie light glow. She still had bushy hair, the uniform, the pale eyes, and everything else. She looked human, but she didn't feel the least bit like one.

After a long while, finally satisfied, she tried to walk away. Her legs moved, but she didn't. She was still in the same spot. Upon looking down, Hermione discovered why. Her feet were no longer on the ground. She was floating.

Hermione felt a great joy spread through her body. It felt so wonderful to fly. She moved tried to walk on the air, hoping to get to the other side of the room. She couldn't. Breaking into a run and flailing her arms as if swimming, she tried to move. It didn't work. She finally gave up, miserably rooted to exactly the same spot.

I wish that I could travel over there . . . 

No later than when the thought crossed her mind, she suddenly whipped across the room, speeding toward the opposite wall.

_Stop!_She came to an abrupt halt with her nose two inches away from the wall.

Hermione smiled. She was pleased with herself to have figured it out. She had to think to move.

For a long period of time she floated around the little room. Flying gave her an exhilarating feeling. She guessed this was what Quidditch players must feel on their broomsticks.

She laughed, and then grinned. Her voice was back!

"I can talk! I can fly!" Hermione was overjoyed.

Long afterward she felt very tired. Flying had taken up most of her energy. She floated back to her usual spot on the ground, sat down, and fell fast asleep.

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Chapter 3: The Staff Meeting

Professor Dumbledore fidgeted with his pen at his desk. It was dark outside, and the only light was coming from his lamp standing nearby. The gloomy scenery felt comforting to him, since he had needed time alone to sort out his thoughts.

He had summoned all the teachers to a meeting, which he told them was urgent but nothing threatening. He needed to tell them about what he was planning to do.

While he continued to play with his pen, all the professors suddenly burst into the room. It looked like they had been running, since some of them were out of breath.

Dumbledore rose to greet them. "You all look fatigued," he told them, "please sit and rest. I believe I recall saying there was no rush? But never mind that, please sit down. I need to tell you all what is going on."

He waited until they all were sitting in the chairs in front of him before continuing.

"You all know of the tragedy that occurred a week ago. The death of Ms. Hermione Granger was indeed a great loss to our school and the students. Turning into a ghost is such a painful and confusing process." He gave a very small sigh and continued. "I have talked to Mr. and Mrs. Granger recently, and we came to a conclusion."

The professors were nervous. Snape was staring at the ground. McGonogall was sitting straight up and her undivided attention was on Dumbledore. Lupin toyed with his fingers. Binns was unable to look at Dumbledore. The others were all acting similarly. No matter how they were acting, one fact was clear. They knew Hermione very well, and all had been delighted to have such a bright and hard working student, though some may have been more reluctant to admit it than others. Dumbledore silently studied each one of them before continuing.

"We have agreed that it would be best to have a school funeral here."

Each the professors looked up at the same moment. "A funeral . . . here? While she is still in the Nesskrad Room?" Snape asked.

"Yes, Severus. Many students knew Ms. Granger very well, and it is important to give them a chance to mourn and let out their feelings. They do believe that she is dead, and we don't want good to announce her transformation to the students. It would lead to chaos. Mr. and Mrs. Granger also need some time to figure out a way to explain her death to the rest of her family."

"But, sir, where would we have it?" Inquired McGonogall. "Surely not in one of the classrooms, they are too small to fit fifty students, let alone the entire school and a coffin."

"I have a suggestion for that," Lupin said, "the Great Hall would fit all the students. All we would need are a few finishing touches and take away the tables.

Dumbledore considered that for a moment. "An excellent suggestion. Does anyone have any objections to that?"

All the teachers were still silent and shocked. McGonogall spoke up, saying, "But, sir, never in the history of Hogwarts has there ever been any sort of funeral!"

"Ah, yes Minerva, but there is a first for everything."

Professor Binns seemed puzzled. "But when would we have it?"

"The day after tomorrow, in the morning after breakfast. That will give us enough time to announce the event to all the students." Dumbledore studied each of them again. "Are there any more questions or concerns?" No one spoke. "Wonderful, then we shall go ahead. I'm sure that you all have something to attend to, and I won't keep you any longer. I bid a good night to each of you."

There was a chorus of "Good nights" as all the professors except McGonogall left the room. She waited until everyone had departed before she spoke.

"Albus, I need to address a problem with you." She looked straight into his eyes. "I'm concerned about the health of the students. In particular as Ron Weasely and Harry Potter – "

Dumbledore spoke softly. "Yes, Mr. Weasely and Mr. Potter – very close ties to Ms. Granger. I was afraid they would not be faring well. How are they doing?"

"Poorly," McGonogall said without hesitation. "Their grades are at an all time low. I am especially concerned about Harry – he has completely stopped participating in class, and he is failing many of the tests and quizzes, not to mention incomplete homework. They both, and Harry especially, seem to be what Muggles would call "in a state of grieving". I'm very worried about them."

Dumbledore gave her a warm smile meant to cheer her up. "Don't worry. I believe that a little time to grieve is completely necessary in the healing process. They both will benefit from the funeral, as long as they are able to let their emotions out. They are not quite ready to face Ms. Granger themselves. It would be too much of a shock for them. Meanwhile, I don't know what to say. It wouldn't be fair on the other students to go easy on them. The only advice I can give is to have patience. They'll come around sooner or later." Dumbledore sighed, his smile fading. "It is so saddening. They cared for her so much. I would not hesitate to call it love. It must be so hard for them to mourn her death while not knowing she is still around."

McGonogall squinted her eyes. She thought she saw a teardrop rolling down his face.

Again, Dumbledore smiled warmly at her. With the feeling that everything would turn out all right, she left. "Good night, Albus."

"Good night, Minerva."

After she left, Dumbledore was uneasy. _What is happening to Ms. Granger much be painful . . . and so complicated to explain. I hope that when the time comes to let her out of the Nesskrad Room, she and all the students will be ready.___

Darkness settled in, finally matching on the outside what he was feeling on the inside.

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Chapter 4: A Flee From Reality

It seemed like a normal morning in the Great Hall. Everyone was chatting excitedly, finishing up last minute homework, and eating breakfast.

Harry, of course, was his usual dull self. He was sitting next to Ron and Neville, who was once again trying to turn his pumpkin juice into root beer. His efforts only resulted in a series of small explosions and the inevitable loss of his eyebrows.

Harry poked his toast with his fork. He didn't feel very hungry. He never really did since the night Hermione died. Eating seemed to be a chore.

Halfway through breakfast, Professor Dumbledore unexpectedly stood up and tapped his glass with a knife. All the chattering and noise turned into silence. It was very unusual for Professor Dumbledore to make any sort of announcement. Harry's heart fell. That was not a good sign.

"Thank you," he said, "that was very quick. We the staff have something very important to announce. Now, please give Professor McGonogall your attention."

Professor McGonogall stood and started to speak. "In light of the recent tragedy…"

_Oh, bloody hell._Harry knew exactly what was going to happen.

"I have to go to the library," he whispered to Ron. Without another word he rose and left the Great Hall.

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Harry walked down the empty corridors, his feet making quiet, tapping noises that echoed off the walls. He didn't need to go to the library. He just had to leave there before they started talking about Hermione. He just couldn't stand hearing her name anymore. It hurt too much.

Harry stopped abruptly.

_Wait a minute, the library was one of Hermione's favorite places. I can't go there!_

He turned around and started the other way, to the Gryffindor commonroom. At least he would get some privacy there.

On his way he saw Cho Chang coming down the hallway. Normally he would have blushed and tried to hide, but Harry had changed. He didn't care about her anymore. His mind was fixed on another girl.

They got closer and Cho stopped. She seemed to really want to talk to him.

"Hi, Harry," she said softly.

"Hello," he answered plainly as he stopped.

Cho looked a bit nervous. "Listen…I just wanted to say how sorry I am about…you know…"

Harry took a deep breath. "Hermione." He finished her sentence.

"Yes." She blushed. "It must be really hard for you…"

She looked straight into his eyes. "…and I wanted to let you know you have my support."

Harry shrugged. "Thanks," he said. He really didn't feel like socializing.

Cho looked down. "Bye." She walked off very hurriedly. It took Harry a few seconds to realize what she was feeling.

She just gave me her support, and I completely ignored it . . .

Feeling very guilty, he ran after her. "Cho! Wait!"

She stopped but didn't turn around.

"Cho, I'm sorry. I acted like a jackass. I mean, here you are offering your support, and I just shrug it off."

She turned around and faced him. "You don't need to feel sorry. I understand."

She started going again without another word.

"Wait," Harry said. "Why weren't you at breakfast?"

"I wasn't hungry," she replied.

You and me both.

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Chapter 5: Controlled Chaos 

Ron watched Harry get up from the table. It took him a while to process what was happening, and by the time Ron realized what was really going on, Harry was already halfway out of the room.

He's running away from reality again.

Ron had no time to think anymore. The announcement Professor McGonogall was about to say must have been important. And about Hermione.

She cleared her throat, and started. "I'm sure all of you are familiar with the tragic death of one of our students, Ms. Hermione Granger. It has affected many of you, some more than others . . . "

Ron glanced at Professor Dumbledore. He was watching the door through which Harry had disappeared.

" . . . And therefore, the staff of this school along with the parents of Ms. Granger have decided to have a funeral here."

She didn't have a chance to continue. The Great Hall burst into a pandemonium. Everyone was talking. Neville and Seamus were bent over, chattering and not trying to hide how insane they thought the idea was. The Gryffindor table turned into a volcano of shock and chaos.

Ron's jaw dropped as soon as the professor had said "funeral". _What the bloody hell are they thinking? That's the craziest, stupidest, most unbelievable thing I've ever heard in my entire life! Having Hermione's funeral here, were everyone can openly joke about her while staring at her dead body! It's insane!_

He looked around the Great Hall. A girl at the Hufflepuff table was crying. A plate was splattered next to the Ravenclaw table. Everything was crazy. There wasn't a silent student in the whole room besides Ron.

Ron took a moment to listen to what other people were saying. He heard bits and pieces of intense conversations.

" . . . a dead body, here? . . . "

" . . . Dumbledore's gone nuts . . . "

" . . . Isn't this against the law or something . . . "

" . . . I've never been to a funeral before . . . "

Ron closed his eyes. No one cared that it was _Hermione's_ funeral. They just didn't want a funeral.

He wanted to stand up on a chair and scream at each and every one of them. They were being so selfish! This wasn't about what they felt about going to a funeral! This was about Hermione!

But he didn't. He couldn't. If you live with six siblings, five of them brothers that tease and haunt you for crying or being emotional at all, you learn how to keep a wall around yourself. How to trap and confine your feelings, and never let them out. The only problem was the feelings could eat through the bars of any cage. Even if they can't get out, they eat away at your heart, mind, strength, anything it can get a hold of.

His thoughts finally shifted back to the present situation. He glanced around, and something caught his eye. Malfoy was sitting at the Slytherin table, giggling with Crabbe and Goyle. A fire crept through his body, starting in his hands and spreading everywhere. He curled his hands into fists, clenching them to tightly that he noticed a drop of blood on his palm.

He stared at Malfoy, like a jaguar would watch its prey. Malfoy had a huge grin on his face. As Ron stared, he figured out what he was saying by watching his mouth. He figured out one part of it.

"This is gonna be fun."

Then he lost it. He got up and started storming across the room like a fire doused in gasoline. He had only one thing set in his mind. To kill Malfoy.

But he never got farther than his table. Fred and George, who had been watching him for a while when he was glaring at Malfoy, grabbed him by both arms and held him back. Ron struggled to get free and get to the Slytherin table, but their strength was too much for him to shake off.

"Ron! Ron, that slime ball isn't worth fighting!" Fred kept both his hands wrapped around Ron's wrist.

"Yeah, chill out bro. Who cares what that bastard has to say?" George said in a calm voice.

After a few seconds Ron stopped struggling. _They're right, who cares what he has to say? He isn't worth even listening to._ His brothers, sensing his adjustment, released him. They returned and sat down at the table. Ron stood for about five moments before going back to his seat.

Seamus looked him over, looking particularly at his palm where the drop of blood still lay. "Are you okay, Ron? You look terrible! What's with the blood?"

Ron ignored the last question and muttered, "Yeah, I'm fine."

At that moment there was a loud, high screech. Many people clapped their hands over their ears. There was a sudden silence. The screech had come from an owl sitting at the edge of Dumbledore's table. The teachers were obviously annoyed and maybe even angry about the amount of talking done during that time.

Dumbledore finally stood. "I'm very disappointed in you. Basic manners say that when someone else is speaking, especially an elder, your mouths are shut." Guilty faces spread. "I hope this does not become a habit for you. I have already told many people that the students at Hogwarts are delightful and very respectful. Please do not prove me wrong."

The last sentence seemed more of a statement than a plead.

His voice softened. "Now, about the funeral. It will take place an hour after breakfast tomorrow. Morning classes will be canceled and you will resume your regular schedule after lunch. Your instructions for that time are to finish your breakfast and immediately go to your House Commonroom. You will have an hour to get ready and come back down to this room. Please dress respectfully. You don't need to be totally black, but a dark outfit would be appropriate. You will receive further instructions from there. Thank you."

Dumbledore finished his speech and took a seat.

This time the room was not very loud and noisy, but there still were many whispers among them. Ron stayed silent. He stared at his plate. He didn't feel remotely hungry anymore.

Neville leaned over from the other side of the table. "Are you sure you're okay? Your face is as pale as chalk."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I've just lost my appetite, that's all."

Neville gave him a quiet concerned look before turning back to Seamus.

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::: A/N: This part has no real significance, but it reflects how Hermione feels. Parts of this chapter were taken from JK Rowling's books, which I do not take any credit for. Just for fun you can guess which parts are from which book! ::: Chapter 6: Pure Human Experiences 

Hermione awoke with a start. She thought she had heard something. But there was nothing around. It was the same room as always. Her pain had increased slightly, due to the excess movement in her sleep.

She was bored out of her mind. She had done everything she could to keep herself busy. She had played games, like how fast she could speed around or how long she could float in one spot without moving at all. She even counted the number of stone bricks layered to form the walls. There were 124.

Having nothing to do, Hermione leaned against the wall behind her. She was hit with sudden memories of her human life. Flashbacks flew before her eyes.

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'I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley,' said Malfoy, smugly. 'Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team.'

Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

'Good, aren't they?' said Malfoy smoothly. 'But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them.'

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

'At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,' said Hermione sharply. 'They got in on pure talent.'

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered.

'No one asked your opinion, you filthy Mudblood,' he spat.

Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, 'How dare you!', and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, 'You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!' and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoy's face.

A loud bang echoed through the stadium and a jet of green light shot out the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

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Harry checked his face in the mirror. He was back to normal. He put his glasses on as Ron hammered on the door of Hermione's stall.

'Hermione, come out, we've got loads to tell you – '

'Go away!' Hermione squeaked.

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

'What's the matter?' said Ron. 'You must be back to normal by now, we are – '

But Moaning Myrtle glided suddenly through the stall door. Harry had never seen her so happy.

'Ooooooh, wait till you see,' she said. 'It's awful – '

They heard the lock slide back and Hermione emerged, sobbing, her robes pulled up over her head.

'What's up?' said Ron uncertainly. 'Have you still got Millicent's nose or something?'

Hermione let her robes fall and Ron backed into the sink.

Her face was covered in black fur. Her eyes had turned yellow and there were long, pointed ears poking through her hair.

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'Seen anything yet?' Harry asked them after a quarter of an hour's quiet crystal gazing.

'Yeah, there's a burn on this table,' said Ron, pointing. 'Someone's spilled their candle.'

'This is such a waster of time,' Hermione hissed. 'I could be practicing something useful. I could be catching up on Cheering Charms – '

Professor Trelawney rustled past.

'Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within their Orb?' she murmured over the clinking of her bangles.

'I don't need help,' Ron whispered. 'It's obvious what this means. There's gonna be loads of fog tonight.'

Both Harry and Hermione burst out laughing.

'Now, really!' said Professor Trelawney as everyone's heads turned in their direction. Paravati and Lavender were looking scandalized. 'You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!' She approached their table and peered into their crystal ball. Harry felt his heart sinking. He was sure he knew what was coming – '

'There is something here!' Professor Trelawney whispered, lowering her face to the ball, so that is reflected twice in her huge glasses. 'Something moving . . . but what is it?'

Harry was prepared to bet everything he owned, including his Firebolt, that wasn't good news, whatever it was. And sure enough – 

'My dear . . . ,' Professor Trelawney breathed gazing up at Harry. 'It is here, plainer than ever before . . . my dear, stalking toward you, growing ever closer . . . the Gr – '

'Oh for goodness' sake!' said Hermione loudly. 'Not that ridiculous Grim again!'

Professor Trelawney raised her enormous eyes to Hermione's face. Parvati whispered something to Lavender, and they both glared at Hermione too. Professor Trelawney stood up, surveying Hermione with unmistakable anger.

'I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class, my dear, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane.'

There was a moment's silence. Then – 

'Fine!' said Hermione suddenly, getting up and cramming "Unfogging the Future" back in her bag. 'Fine!' she repeated, swinging the bag over her shoulder and almost knocking Ron off his chair. 'I give up! I'm leaving!'

And to the whole class' amazement, Hermione strode over to the trapdoor, kicked it open, and climbed down the ladder out of sight.

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'Only a week away!' said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. 'I wonder if Cedric knows? I think I'll go and tell him . . . '

'Cedric?' said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.

'Diggory,' said Harry. 'He must be entering the tournament.'

'That idiot, Hogwarts champion?' Ron said as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.

'He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch,' said Hermione. 'I've heard he's a really good student – and he's a prefect.'

She spoke as though this settled the matter.

'You only like him because he's handsome,' said Ron scathingly.

'Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!' said Hermione indignantly.

Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like 'Lockhart!'

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Hermione sighed as she slid further down the wall. She never knew how much the little things meant when she was human. She took them all for granted.

Especially the friendship she, Harry and Ron shared. She missed them more than anything else, even her own parents. She wanted more than anything for them to appear and cheer her up, giving her hope, even if it was for just a fleeting minute. She wanted a little bit of cheer in her gloomy world. She wanted them.

But all Hermione had was a bitter darkness, a mirror and a tiny candle.

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NOTICE: For those of you who are religious, toward the end of the chapter Ron and Harry discuss God and things like that. I personally don't think it really matters, but I don't want any reviews criticizing their views. So don't say I didn't tell you!

Chapter 7: A Revealing Conversation

Harry sat at the edge of his bed in his pajamas, staring at the history textbook he was supposed to be reading. His eyes were screening the page as if he was, but the information was not reaching his mind. He was already thinking about the same topic.

_It really is my fault,_ _and no one else's. If only I had done something, I could have stopped him . . ._

A rustle of movement from the bed next to him interrupted his thoughts. Harry closed the book and put it down next to his bed. He then used his wand to turn off the lamp floating beside him. He then retired under the covers and closed his eyes. He tried to go to sleep, but the same thought kept flashing through his head.

_It's all my fault . . ._

"Harry? You awake?"

Harry squinted in the darkness, trying to make out who was talking to him. After a few seconds he could see Ron, leaning against the wall behind him, his knees bent underneath his blanket.

"Yeah," he said. "What are you doing up?"

"Just thinking." Ron said casually.

"Me too."

There was a small silence. Then the creaking of a bed nearby made them realize how loud they were.

"Were you thinking about – "

"Yes." Ron read his mind.

Harry propped his head up with his arm, his elbow digging into the soft mattress.

"Ron, I know I haven't been myself lately. I just can't stop thinking about . . . " He took a breath before saying, "Hermione."

"Believe me, you're not alone." Ron spoke very softly, as though he felt exactly the same way.

Silence.

"It just sucks, doesn't it?" Ron said. "I mean, it's so hard that she isn't there when I expect her to be there. I – I feel like . . ."

"Part of you has been wrenched out?" Harry finished.

"Yeah." Ron sighed. "Harry, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Did you like her?"

Harry was surprised. "Of course I liked her."

"No, I mean _like_like her."

Harry pondered for a few moments. "I honestly don't know. I never really thought of her as any more than a friend." Harry's eyes shifted toward the ceiling. "The thought never crossed my mind. What about you?"

"I . . . I don't really know either. I guess I never got a chance to find out."

Harry's gaze returned to Ron. "You mean you thought about it?"

Ron looked a little guilty. "Well . . . I never took it seriously."

"You never take anything seriously," Harry teased.

Ron smiled as he replied. "Yes I do!"

"Oh yeah? Name three things you take seriously!"

"Food, Snape and spiders!" Ron said.

They both started laughing until they heard someone say, "Shhhhhh!"

There was yet another silence.

"Ron, do you think there is a God?"

He considered the question before slowly answering. "I haven't decided yet. Sometimes life is so wonderful I think it can't get any better. Then I think there is a God because I'm so happy. But other times life gets so unbelievably crappy that I curse everything in sight, and I think that if there is a God he must not be paying much attention to his job. Right now . . . I'm undecided. What about you?"

"Until I came here I thought God was just someone I was forced to pray to every Sunday and say thanks to. Then I came here and I thought it was all a miracle." He paused. "I do think there is a God. I would still be suffering a horrible life with the Dursleys if there wasn't."

Silence.

"Do you think Hermione's gone to a heaven?"

Ron shrugged. "If she has, the angels had better pray they have one hell of a library!"

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Chapter 8: Fifteen Minutes From Hell 

"So, what are you gonna wear?" Ron scrambled through the clothes sprawled out on his bed. He was piling things on each other, tossing pants and shirts aside, looking for something nice to wear.

Harry had made up his mind. "I'm not going." He sat watching Ron, his eyes following every pant, shirt or shoe that was tossed aside.

He stopped. "What do you mean 'you're not going'?"

"I mean I'm not going."

Ron's eyes drifted back to the pile of clothes, and started searching again. "Oh course you are," he said while throwing a shoe under the bed. "You have to."

"Why? So I can see her and prove to myself that she's dead?"

Ron stopped again. Harry sat hugging his knees, watching the clouds drift by outside the window. They were dark, as if upset.

"Harry, you're not going to like this, but you're acting very childish. You're hiding from your fears instead of confronting them. And that isn't the Harry I used to know. The Harry Potter I knew would do anything for a friend, to protect and help them. He would brave the greatest danger for anyone. That was something I admired about you, Harry." Ron looked down at his bed. "But you're someone else now. Someone I don't know. Sometimes I get scared of that person, thinking it replaced the Harry who is my best friend in the entire world. You've changed a lot. But if you don't come to the funeral, just know this one thing."

Ron put on the clothes he picked, which were dark and gloomy, as he started out the door. "Just remember this. Remember how good your life was before. It's not to late to be happy again. Ever."

With that he left, leaving Harry in astonishment.

_That was so unlike Ron,_Harry thought. He sat exactly where he had when Ron was there, this time all alone. He shivered.__

_Maybe he's right, maybe I am acting childish. He was there to support me, and what did I give him in return?_

A tiny voice in the back of his head answered. _Nothing._

He closed his eyes. _Ron was been the best friend possible to me. _He opened his eyes with determination. _And it's about time I become the best friend possible to him._

He stood and glanced at the clock. 9:45. He had 15 minutes to be ready.

He started doing the same thing Ron had, but two times faster. He finally chose black pants, a gray T-shirt and his dark Hogwarts cape. He then found a pair of gray socks, his usual black leather shoes. He then changed into those clothes, making sure there was nothing hanging out, flopping around or wrinkled up.

Then he rushed into the bathroom. He quickly looked himself over. Disgusted at his messy hair, Harry grabbed a nearby comb and tried to fix it. Try as he might, his hair would not cooperate. Being desperate, he snatched a bottle of grease, but stopped and shook himself.

He stared at the bottle of grease. On the label were the words, "Gretchen's Hair-Fixing Gel!" There was a boy with greased hair who kept smiling and giving him thumbs up. Then a question appeared. "Are you tired of that messy, unmanageable hair? Use Gretchen's Hair-Fixing Gel!"

Harry dropped the bottle. _Yeah, right! I'm never gonna grease my hair and look like Malfoy!___

He gasped as he looked at the clock. 9:57. He had been distracted with the gel for five precious minutes. He ran out the bathroom door, patting his cape to make sure his wand was there and ready. Then he sprinted out and down the stairs.

After running as fast as he could, Harry spotted Ron. Only then did he slow down and walk toward him.

"Harry?" Ron said as he saw Harry approaching. "You came!"

Harry was still gasping for breath. When his heart had slowed down and his head stopped spinning, he spoke.

"Best friends don't let each other down," Harry said with a smile.

Ron returned the smile and together they walked into the Great Hall.

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Chapter 9: The Fires of Hell Unleashed 

The Great Hall looked nothing like it had before. "Oh, great," said Ron, "My allergies are thrilled."

While Ron was started to sneeze multiple times in a row, Harry was looking around, fascinated. The place was packed with students, teachers, and ghosts. Harry and Ron had to push through the crowd to get to anywhere.

White roses were the most common of the flowers. They were on the floor near the walls, hung up on the walls and floating in the air. Many were wrapped in red bows. The atmosphere was filled with sobbing, coughing, and low voices. Many of the girls who were Hermione's close friends were crying openly. There were about twenty gliding tissue boxes, some stationed next to a person who was crying.

One of the tissue boxes, a green one, floated toward Harry and Ron. Harry almost jumped when he heard it say, "Need a tissue, lad?"

Harry, wide-eyed, said, "No thanks."

Ron, who was still sneezing, took one and wiped his nose with it. Between sneezing he said, "Thanks."

"Take a couple more," said the tissue box, "Just in case."

Ron took a few more and nodded thanks. The box then floated toward someone else.

"Are you going for the record?" Harry asked Ron quietly.

Ron suddenly stopped sneezing for a while. He rolled his eyes. "I was!"

Something else caught Harry's eye. There was a big, wooden coffin in the middle of the room. He walked toward it, and in the corner of his eye he saw Ron talking to Fred and George, whose noses were also bright red from sneezing.

Harry reached the coffin, almost afraid to look inside. It took Harry a few moments and a deep breath to finally peek inside.

He caught his breath. He saw Hermione, lying on a soft, crimson pillow. She seemed so peaceful. Her eyes were closed, her face toward the heavens. Her normally bushy hair was straight, elegantly spread around her. Her skin was pale and her cheeks were a slightly pink. Her lips were painted a red, which scared Harry because she never wore any makeup. She was wearing a white dress, made of silk. Her were folded across her chest, holding a single blood-red rose. Two candles burned at both ends of the coffin.

Harry stood in shock. He was so used to her school uniform, wild hair and natural face. He had never seen her in such elegance. Harry found himself praying, hoping that Hermione would wake up and rise up from the coffin, as alive as she used to be. But she did not. She continued to lay motionless in a beautiful cold death.

As he glanced in front of him, he was startled. He thought for a moment that Hermione had risen. But upon a closer look, he realized it wasn't her. The girl had raven, straight hair and emerald eyes. She was watching Hermione's face just as he was. She seemed to sense his gaze and looked up. As their eyes met, Harry felt a slight shiver run through him. She reminded him of Hermione . . . a lot.

The girl gave him a small smile, and he returned it with a forced smile. Harry suddenly heard laughter. He spun around, searching for who it was. What he saw did not surprise him.

Malfoy was snickering with Crabbe and Goyle in one corner of the room. It enraged Harry that they were laughing and joking around in any funeral, let alone Hermione's!

Ron appeared at Harry's side. He seemed to sense that Harry was tense. "What's the matter?" Then he looked were Harry was looking and immediately understood.

"Don't bother yourself with those jack asses," Ron told Harry, "They mean to stir up trouble. Don't make it easier for them."

He knew this was good advice, but Harry was still watching Malfoy like a hawk watching its prey. He could make out what they were saying.

"That's a good one, Malfoy," said Crabbe.

"Okay, here's one for the occasion," Malfoy said. "What rhymes with witch, and is lying over there?" He motioned toward Hermione's coffin. Crabbe and Goyle laughed.

Harry could take it no longer. He walked up to them, fists clenched. Ron was with him the entire time. He was as angry as Harry was. Malfoy saw them standing in front of him and sneered.

"It seems Potter is a little upset," said Malfoy. "And Weasel, too. What ever could be the matter?"

"You'd better shut up, Malfoy," Harry replied.

"Or what, Potter?" He turned to Crabbe and Goyle. "Hey guys, we'd better watch ourselves. The Mudblood's two boyfriends are getting angry."

Harry and Ron lost it. They jumped on Malfoy at the same time, knocking him to the ground. A crowd suddenly formed around them. While Ron started punching Malfoy in the face, Crabbe and Goyle went into action. They both reached down and pulled Ron off Malfoy, punching and kicking him. Ron fought back, but he was no match for two bigger boys. Meanwhile, Malfoy managed to get Harry off of him and got up. While Harry was trying to stand, Malfoy kicked him in the head, very hard. His head throbbed, but he didn't stop. He pushed Malfoy against the wall. Malfoy managed to get his hands around Harry's neck and started choking him. Harry gripped his hands, attempting to wrench them off. He punched Malfoy's nose. Malfoy let go and held his nose. Blood seeped through his fingers.

"Enough!" Professor McGonogall screamed. She pushed through the crowd to where they were standing, and had clearly lost her temper. "Enough of this childishness!"

Harry turned around to face her, his glasses dangling from his face. Malfoy was still holding his nose, blood all over his hands. Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem very hurt, but Ron looked like he had received the beating of his life. He was covered in bruises and limping. Professor McGonogall stared at all of them. Harry could almost see the fire in her eyes.

"Explain yourselves!"

Malfoy stepped forward. "They attacked me, Professor! I did nothing wrong!"

"You bloody liar!" Harry made a move toward Malfoy, but Fred and George appeared and held him back. "Calm down, Harry," they said.

"Potter, I will not tolerate that language!" McGonogall snapped. As she said this, a tissue box floated over. It hovered next to Malfoy. He snatched two tissues, which he used to cover his nose. The tissue box then left the scene, muttering, "Tsk, tsk. Young people these days."

McGonogall was not done. She was still very angry. "I am very disappointed in you. All of you! Such behavior! Especially at a funeral! I should think you know better!" Her eyes were on Harry when she said this. "Go to Professor Dumbledore's office! We shall discuss you immaturity and punishment there!"

Malfoy went first, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. Harry started walking after them, Ron limping at his side. Everyone in the Great Hall was in silence. Before he left the Great Hall, Harry noticed the raven-haired girl watching him. He met her gaze as he exited.

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Author's Note: That's all I have right now. What do you think? I've only gotten three reviews ever (two of which belonged to my friend)! I don't want to beg but . . . I AM!!!


	2. Chapters 10 through 12

::: A/N: OMG!! I actually got reviews!! *Bounces up and down* Thank you all! You have no idea how much I appreciate your feedback! :::  
  
[Sapphire]: Thank you, I'm glad you like it, and I'll update as soon as I can! ^-^  
  
[Piperkeen]: I'll check it out!  
  
[Lady Priestess]: I'm not sure if it's H/H yet, but they definitely have feelings for each other! And don't worry, Hermione's undoubtedly gonna come back ;)  
  
[Bob]: Thanks! ^-^  
  
[Sparkle-eyed Dreamer]: That's a good suggestion. I know my chapters tend to be short, but it's due to my tendency to get straight to the point of things.  
  
[usha88]: Thanks, and like I said to Lady Priestess, I'm not sure if it's H/H yet, but they do have feelings for each other ;)  
  
[Ana]: I will!  
  
Chapter 10  
  
McGonagall stormed down the hallway after the boys, her head spinning with rage. She could not believe that students could act so foolishly . . . especially Harry.  
  
*'Sure, I can understand that he lost one of his best friends, but how could that drive him to the point of insanity?!' She thought. 'Ron has two menaces for brothers he can learn from, Draco and his friends have practically been raised to stir up trouble, but Harry! And at Hermione's funeral!'*  
  
She stopped in her tracks as a thought popped into her head. Professor Dumbledore would not be in his office. He was supposed to make a speech at the funeral.  
  
"Boys!" She yelled down the hall. They were walking far ahead of her, but stopped at her call. "Boys, go to my office!"  
  
McGonagall turned around and started walking the other direction. One quick look behind told her the boys were doing the same. As she continued, she kept thinking.  
  
*'Well, I suppose that he hasn't yet gotten over her death. And why should he have? He lost both his parents, and even after almost fifteen years, he still isn't completely over it. I'm just surprised that Harry's taking it harder than Ron . . .'*  
  
WHOMP!  
  
McGonagall stepped back, painfully realizing she had just walked into her office door. "Ow!" She said in her frustration. Her nose had been first to encounter the hard surface of the door, followed by her forehead. Rubbing the tip of her nose, she quickly looked around hoping that the boys had not seen her moment of embarrassment. They were far down the hallway, and didn't seem to notice anything.  
  
"HEHEHEHEHE!!!!" But a loud, high-pitched roll of laughter revealed she had one witness.  
  
Whipping around, McGonagall found herself looking at a painting. Its background was one of a fancy library. It had tall bookcases filled with books of many shapes and sizes, which would have ordinarily intrigued her. However, the only thing grasping her attention at the moment was the librarian, doubled over and laughing hysterically. McGonagall recognized her. She had been there for as long as McGonagall had taught at Hogwarts. Her name was Martha, and McGonagall hated her. Her face went slightly red, from both blushing and anger.  
  
"What are you laughing at?!" She snapped. Martha took deep breaths, trying to stop laughing. Finally, holding herself in a forced upright position, she grinned.  
  
"Excuse me, Professor, but this is my first time seeing an adult, and teacher at that, run into a door!"  
  
McGonagall furrowed her eyebrows and frowned. "Why is that so funny? All people are entitled to make mistakes!"  
  
On the verge of laughing, Martha replied, "Of course they are. I've seen many teens do the same, but that's only because they're tired or just plain stupid!"  
  
The librarian burst into laughter again, leaning on a table nearby. Her face hot, McGonagall clenched her teeth. Glancing briefly to her right side to make sure no one was watching, she pulled out her wand.  
  
"Wicktirmaeus Ganthamo!" She whispered, pointing her wand at the books piled on the shelf above Martha's head. The books shivered, and then fell onto her head.  
  
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! Book after book fell on Martha. She stopped laughing, and instead let out a small shriek. She was soon completely buried in a pile of books.  
  
"Who's laughing now, Martha?!" McGonagall put away her wand, and turned. She almost jumped upon seeing Harry, Ron, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle only two feet away, watching her intently.  
  
McGonagall felt truly embarrassed. "What are you doing here?" She asked without thinking. Then, recovering her thoughts, she snapped, "Get into my office!"  
  
They filed into the classroom with astounded, bewildered and amused expressions on their faces.  
  
McGonagall quickly followed, closing the door just as the librarian screamed, "MINERVA!!!!!!" Holding the door shut behind her, she said, "I trust you all understand that you are not to mention this to anyone." Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle exchanged smirks.  
  
Her office was unique compared to that of all the other teachers. Gilded maroon draperies covered the walls, giving the room a medieval flavor. At the far end, the hangings parted, revealing a large, stone fireplace.  
  
On the right was McGonagall's desk, facing the rest of the room. On one side of the desk stood a silver column. At first glance it seemed solid, but upon closer inspection one could see that it was made of spheres cascading over each other and disappearing into the wooden surface.  
  
Parchment was spread over most of the desk, with the exception of the column and an inkwell resembling a small fountain spouting emerald green ink several inches into the air. On the floor, which was covered by a Persian carpet, was a tall marble pedestal holding up a black stone statue of a cat.  
  
Opposite the desk were five chairs, arranged as if expecting their arrival. "Now," said McGonagall, breaking the silence, "Please sit down."  
  
Harry and Ron sat in the two chairs closest to the door. The others moved hesitantly towards their chairs. McGonagall took her seat in an armchair behind her desk.  
  
"First of all, I wish to express my extreme discontent at the behavior you displayed. I should expect better conduct from you. As a result, twenty- five points will be taken from your houses for each of you . . ."  
  
"A-A-ACHOO!" Her lecture was cut off by an enormous sneeze from Ron. When McGonagall looked at him, she saw him doubled over with his hands over his nose. Harry looked disgusted, trying to brush some boogies off his robes. She paused. "There is a tissue box next to the cat." She gestured toward the black cat statue.  
  
Ron quickly walked over to the statue, wiping his hands on his black robes and sniffling. He stopped in front of the statue as he reached for the pink, floating tissue box. He reached too quickly, and knocked over the statue instead.  
  
Ron made a grab for it, and looked relieved when he caught it. He held it with both hands, looking at it, as if amazed that he grabbed it in time.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"A-A-A-A-A-A-H-H-H-H!!!!!!!!" Shocked by the cat's response, Ron's hands shook as a girlish scream escaped his lips. The statue was sent flying into the air. Ron suddenly realized what he had done, and made several desperate grabs for it. When he caught it, he tossed it back and forth between his hands, as if it were a hot potato. When he finally gained control, he held the statue as far away as possible. Ron looked at it as if it were a bomb about to go off.  
  
"I say, do be careful, I'm very fragile you know," The cat said casually.  
  
Ron still looked terrified. "He talks!"  
  
"I prefer to be called Ramdeon, if you don't mind!" The cat seemed very annoyed. "And of course I talk. I'm a statue!"  
  
Ron still seemed too shocked to speak.  
  
"What's the matter, Weasley?" Draco ringed into the conversation. "Startled by a measly kitty?"  
  
Before Ron could answer, Ramdeon said, "Excuse me? A measly kitty? I'll have you know I was ruler of all of the mighty Ancient Egypt long before you were born!" Ramdeon stuck up his tiny nose.  
  
"If that's true, how did you become a statue?" Malfoy asked smugly.  
  
"That's none of your concern!" Ramdeon snapped. He glared at Draco. His transformation was obviously not a story he was willing to tell.  
  
"Can we please continue?" McGonogall asked after patiently waiting for the conversation to stop.  
  
Ron nodded, placing the cat on the column before sitting in his seat. One second later he jumped up, ran across the room, grabbed a tissue from the tissue box and returned.  
  
"Now, I hope you boys are now fully aware of the extremity of your conduct - "  
  
"And embarrassing conduct it was, indeed!" Ramdeon interrupted. "Why, if it were up to me, each of you would be slapped with my slippers - "  
  
"Ramdeon, please stay out of this!" It was McGonagall's turn to interrupt.  
  
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry Professor, it's just that I can't stand such irresponsible, ignorant, conceited, untrustworthy, mindless, inconsiderate, arrogant - "  
  
"Ramdeon! Enough!"  
  
He finally became quiet and still like a normal statue.  
  
"Now," McGonagall continued, "I believe there is nothing more to say. I hope you have learned a great deal from this . . . "  
  
"Yeah, never touch a statue that doesn't have duct tape over its mouth," she heard Ron whisper to Harry.  
  
" . . . so I will keep you no longer. Good day."  
  
The boys stood and left the room. She believed she saw Ron steal a quick glance at Ramdeon as he was leaving.  
  
McGonagall sighed when the door closed. She sunk a little lower in her chair. Ramdeon came alive again and jumped onto her desk. He silently walked over to her, standing in her view.  
  
"Are you okay, Professor? I'm sorry if I upset you . . . "  
  
"Oh no, not at all, Ramdeon," she told him. "I'm fine."  
  
"Are you sure?" He cocked one of his tiny eyebrows.  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
Just as she said this, the door opened. Professor Dumbledore walked in, again closing the door behind him.  
  
"Good morning, Minerva, Ramdeon." He said.  
  
"Good morning Albus," McGonagall answered.  
  
"Good day, Professor," Ramdeon said brightly.  
  
"How is your arthritis?" Dumbledore asked him.  
  
Ramdeon sighed. "Unfortunately, it's not getting any better. My doctor says I should've done something sooner. At least a thousand years sooner, he told me." He shook his head. "I doubt that would've done any good, unless his great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather was a doctor."  
  
He jumped from the desk to his column, allowing McGonagall and Dumbledore to talk. Dumbledore sat in a large chair that appeared behind him.  
  
"I just saw the boys leaving. I trust you didn't punish them too harshly."  
  
McGonagall gave a forced smile.  
  
"Oh, and there seems to be a very upset lady in the painting across your office. She is angry about something, but I didn't catch exactly what it was." Dumbledore gave her a hard look. "There seems to be something troubling you."  
  
McGonagall straightened up. "I'm just concerned about Harry and Ron. Much time has passed, but they are still very distressed." She paused. "Do you believe it is the right time to tell them about Hermione?"  
  
"No," Dumbledore said softly, but without hesitation. "It's still too early for them to handle it. You see, Minerva, if we were to tell them now, they would become overexcited and no doubt open the Nesskrad Room themselves. Such an event would be disastrous, since Hermione is not yet ready to come out."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "I know how you feel Minerva. But as much as we want to give them hope, we must remember the consequences."  
  
"You're right." McGonagall and Dumbledore stood up at the same time. "I just wish that Hermione will soon finish."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "So do I."  
  
While getting up to leave, he said, "Good day, Minerva. Ramdeon."  
  
"Good day," They both responded in an echo. The door closed once again, leaving McGonagall alone with an ancient cat and her thoughts.  
  
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Chapter 11  
  
"This is gonna be so boring. Any idiot can groom a tree!"  
  
"Don't be so sure, Ron," Harry replied as they walked toward the greenhouse together. "You never know what surprises Professor Sprout is hiding."  
  
"Hmm . . . maybe she's gonna make us groom man-eating plants . . . "  
  
It was still the day of Hermione's funeral, only at 3:40 in the afternoon. The weather had cleared up significantly, preventing the students from excusing themselves from Herbology. However, the setting still showed signs of heavy rain. The mud underneath their shoes made a soft squishy sound as they continued. The air smelled damp. The sky, Harry noticed, was gradually clearing up.  
  
*'It's as if someone was weeping up there,'* Harry thought, looking up. *'Someone weeping for Hermione . . . What if someone was up there, crying at Hermione's funeral? What if raindrops were actually tears of grief? What if . . . '*  
  
"HARRY!!"  
  
"What? What?" Harry glanced around nervously, as if just waking up from a dream. His eyes were widened in confusion.  
  
He saw Ron raise his eyebrows and roll his eyes in annoyance. "Geez, Harry, you should at least PRETEND to listen when someone is trying to have a conversation with you!"  
  
"Sorry," Harry quickly said, setting his mind back to what was happening.  
  
They stepped into the greenhouse, joined by other students. The soft squish beneath their feet was replaced by the hard, concrete surface. A faint mist hung around them. The plants were thriving in the weather, reaching out as far as their green stems could go. Professor Sprout, her mouth in the shape of a smile, was standing at the far end writing something on a green chalk board. Harry noted that she was dressed completely in green, as if celebrating the weather.  
  
*'Celebrating,'* Harry silently repeated to himself.  
  
Professor Sprout stepped back from the board, placing the chalk on a wooden table nearby. The big words written read "Grooming Magical Plants". Harry heard Ron give a small groan as they sat down on two seats next to each other in the middle of the room. The plants wove around the outside of the greenhouse, making it seem more like a tropical rain forest than a classroom.  
  
Once the other students had been seated, Professor Sprout cleared her throat and began.  
  
"As you all can see, the plants are thoroughly enjoying today's weather." She waved her hand in the lazy circle, referring to the green around them. "But this is not only perfect weather for them to thrive in. It is also the perfect time to trim them!"  
  
*'Enjoying. Perfect time.'* The words hit him hard like a pile of weightless bricks. He almost winced.  
  
"Therefore," she continued, "I am going to give each of you a pair of trimming scissors much like this one . . ." She held up what resembled a normal pair of scissors, except thicker and bent in an eagle's beak kind of shape at the end. "Now, I'm going to give you a demonstration of how this should be done."  
  
Professor Sprout walked to one end of the room, where she picked up a medium-size tree by the pot and struggled until she lifted it on the table. The tree was visibly shaking, but there was no wind.  
  
"Now, as you can see, this one is very nervous. And grooming does sometimes hurt them."  
  
The tree started to shake violently.  
  
"But to calm it down, say, 'Serenous Zelathai' and point your wand like so."  
  
All eyes were on the tree as the professor rolled up her sleeves, took her wand out of her pocket, and pointed it. "Serenous Zelathai!"  
  
The tree suddenly stopped moving. It was completely still.  
  
"This spell paralyzes your plants, and also numbs its limbs and leaves to it can't feel anything." She picked up her trimming tool. "Now, here is the important part. Trimming a plant is an art. It takes skill, grace and agility. After all, you don't want to still be working when the spell wears off." She pulled leaves away from each other, gently searching for dead ones. "Oh, dear, this one has a lot of dead leaves," she said audibly to herself.  
  
She finally found one brown, dry leaf in a cluster of green. She lifted the branch for all to see and used her trimmer as a pointer to indicate it. "See this one? I simply slip this between the leaves and cut it off at the bottom, being careful not to pierce the green part. Also be careful not to accidentally cut off any other leaves. You might also see a cluster of dead leaves." She indicated a branch that was tipped with brown, wrinkled leaves. "Once again, trace the brown until you get to the green, and cut it off at that point. Simple, right?" She asked while slicing off the cluster.  
  
"That's all you need to know. Here are the trimmers . . ." She gestured toward a toolbox filled with miniature versions of her own. "I'm going to pair you up and I'll leave you to choose a plant and do the rest. Let's see . . ."  
  
She scanned the room, taking in her choices.  
  
"Okay, Ron, why don't you work with . . . Oh, dear! Excuse me! I almost forgot! Please stand up, Aurora!"  
  
The heads shifted, looking at the girl standing up. She was obviously shy, as her eyes darted nervously around the room. Harry recognized her as the raven-haired girl at the funeral.  
  
Professor Sprout walked over to Aurora, placing her hands on both of her shoulders. "Everyone, please welcome Aurora Wellington, our new addition not only to our class and the Gryffindor House but to our school!"  
  
A very pathetic applause followed. Barely anyone clapped. Aurora blushed at their lack of interest.  
  
Professor Sprout shot a piercing glare to everyone before talking once again.  
  
"Well then, please sit down," she told Aurora. She sat, her eyes glued to the desk as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. After a quick study, Harry could easily tell the feeling portrayed in her emerald eyes and soft cheeks. Total embarrassment.  
  
Harry caught himself and rapidly diverted his gaze. Why was he looking at her?  
  
"So, on with business," Professor Sprout announced. "Ron, you go work with Neville - "  
  
Ron made another groan only Harry could hear.  
  
" - And Harry, you can work with Aurora . . ."  
  
Harry's eyes widened in dread. *'Oh . . . Bloody . . . Hell . . . No!'*  
  
He stole a glance to where Aurora was sitting. Her eyes were still down. Except for her posture and hair color, she looked nearly exactly like Hermione. His eyes started to scan her, but he quickly whipped his head away. At that moment he started mentally banging his head against his desk.  
  
*'NO . . . WHY THE HELL AM I LOOKING AT HER ANYWAYS?'*  
  
After he felt he had punished himself enough, or about the equivalent of three consecutive minutes, he noticed the other students standing up and going to meet with their partners. Harry rose to do the same.  
  
*'Okay . . . this isn't going to be so bad . . . I just have to avoid looking at her in that way, that's all . . . that should be easy enough, right? Sure it is!'*  
  
While Harry had a little mental conversation, he saw Ron giving him a wink. Harry raised an eyebrow. *'What was that about?'*  
  
Harry took a deep breath and walked over to where Aurora was still seated. He halted and looked down at her. She still didn't move. He heaved a silent sigh.  
  
"So . . ." Harry started, trying to make conversation, " . . . do you have a plant in mind?"  
  
Her response was so quiet he could barely hear her. "No."  
  
" . . ." He didn't know what to say. " . . . Then, why don't we get up and look for one before all the good ones are taken?"  
  
She did not say anything, but instead got up quietly. Her face slowly lifted and their eyes met.  
  
They were bright, emerald green, specked with small pools of light reflections. They easily compared to a gem or diamond. Her lips sat, a blushy pink, on pale white skin that was free of any zits, crevices or bumps. Her small nose was in the middle of her face, and her thin eyebrows were perched, nearly completely covered by black bangs that stretched down and stopped where her eyes started. Her jet-black hair ran down her back with streams flowing on her shoulders. It looked like a black waterfall, a waterfall with a color opposite of what it should be, but it seemed somehow just as pure and sparkling. She blinked at his gaze, exposing her long, curled eyelashes.  
  
There was one part that struck him hardest. Her eyes. They were bright green, just like his own. He had never seen any like his before - and these were much more hypnotizing.  
  
Harry nearly gasped. *'She's . . .'*  
  
He couldn't finish the sentence.  
  
In a swift moment she turned away and strode to one plant. It was a tree, no more than three feet tall. The tree carried heart-shaped leaves and small flowers. The flowers seemed white from far away, but upon closer inspection they were actually pink. Its fragrance, which carried across the room to where Harry was standing, was beautiful.  
  
"I like this one," Aurora said. She lifted one of its green leaves. "It's a cherry tree. It's Japan's most important tree. Its blossoms are called sakura in Japanese, and many girls are names Sakura after them. It represents serenity . . ." Her eyes were still fixed on the plant. "It's very beautiful."  
  
*'Beautiful . . .'* Harry thought.  
  
He caught himself and again mentally banged his head against his desk. *'NO!! DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN IT!!'*  
  
Harry snapped himself back into the real world. Aurora was awaiting his comment.  
  
"Sure . . ." He said. "I'll lift it to your desk if you get us two trimmers."  
  
"Okay," she said softly. Perhaps he was just imagining it, but he fancied he stole a glance to him while walking away.  
  
Harry walked over to the cherry tree, bent down, and lifted the pot inside which the tree stood. It was surprisingly heavy. With much difficulty, he stumbled across the room and was so anxious to get rid of his burden he dropped the tree on the desk. It landed with a huge "BOOM!".  
  
Aurora had returned, and handed him his trimmers. He took them. Both gave a tiny flinch when their fingers met.  
  
Turning away, Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it at the tree.  
  
"Serenous Zelathai!"  
  
Nothing seemed to happen, but only because it was just as still and silent before.  
  
Putting his wand back into his pocket, Harry bent down slightly and started to trim it. Aurora took a spot across from him, also standing with her face bent toward the leaves. Harry kept his eyes focused on the leaves. In fact, he was so focused that he forgot to look for dead leaves. All he cared about was keeping his eyes away from her.  
  
Every so often, however, the two would press apart the leaves and peer through at the same place and same time, so instead of seeing more leaves and flowers they would each see a green eye. But, when this happened, both immediately retreated and searched somewhere else, each silently laboring at overcoming the desire to look into the other's eyes.  
  
Harry looked up at the clock after what seemed like hours of endless dodging only to discover that there were thirty more minutes left in class. He sighed inwardly.  
  
By the time the class ended, in his mental world, his desk was broken in two and he had a splitting headache.  
  
Finally, Herbology was over. Harry was delighted to be able to put away his trimmers, drag the tree to its place, and dash out of the room without giving Aurora a single glance.  
  
"Hey, wait up!" Ron yelled from behind.  
  
Harry stopped to let Ron catch up and matched his pace as they walked back toward the castle.  
  
"Harry, you know what the Americans would say about HER?"  
  
Harry wasn't exactly listening, so he didn't catch the last part. His mind was somewhere else.  
  
*'Her eyes . . .'*  
  
He sighed. "What would they say?"  
  
"They'd say . . ." He dropped his voice very low. " 'Dude, she's hot!' "  
  
"Who's hot?" That word grabbed his attention.  
  
Ron gave him a look.  
  
"The new girl, you idiot!"  
  
"The new girl . . .?" Suddenly he realized it was Aurora. His mind made very quick connections.  
  
*' Aurora . . . she reminds me of Hermione . . . and Ron is calling Aurora hot . . . so he's saying Hermione's hot too . . . WAIT A SECOND! HERMIONE, HOT! NO!'*  
  
"EW! RON! NO!"  
  
"What?!" Ron replied, angered by his negative reply.  
  
"RON, Aurora and hot do not belong in the same sentence!!"  
  
"And why not?!"  
  
"Because . . . because . . ." Harry was at a loss for words. "Just, no, okay?! Just . . . NO!"  
  
"What the bloody hell's up with you? Any moron could see that she's hot!"  
  
With that, Ron stomped off. Harry felt his blood starting to boil . . . But suddenly, he was overcome by a realization. He closed his eyes.  
  
*'That's what I'm afraid of Ron . . . that's exactly what I'm afraid of.'*  
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- /-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
::: A/N: It's midnight, and I'm the only person up. The night is so dark and threatening. *Shrieks* WHAT WAS THAT NOISE?! Oh, geez. Were crickets created to freak out people in the middle of the night? If they were, they're doing a darn good job! :::  
  
Chapter 12  
  
*'I wonder if they're thinking about me.'*  
  
That was all Hermione could do in her lonely, dark cell. Sit and think.  
  
She thought about people. She thought about her experiences. She thought about what everything meant. That was all she did since the thrill of flying wore off.  
  
Now she was thinking about her second year, when she was petrified. In many ways, being petrified was similar to becoming a ghost. Hermione remembered not being able to move, though her mind and body strained to. Her vision was of sparkling whiteness, outlined with the blurry shapes of bodies. When people spoke to her, she heard a faint whisper, almost an echo. She did not always know what was going on, though she could sometimes recognize the voices. She remembered hearing one masculine voice speaking to her once, in the night. The person was holding her paralyzed hand in two of his own.  
  
"You'll be all right, Hermione. I know you will." ***  
  
Though she couldn't hear very well or see the face above her, she knew exactly who it was. She remembered trying to move, to give him a sign that she could hear him, but she couldn't.  
  
*'I know Ron was worried about me too, but Harry was the one that snuck into the Hospital Wing in the middle of the night to talk to me.'*  
  
A question rose and racked in the back of her mind ever since that happened.  
  
Was it that their friendship was stronger, or was it that Harry was simply less shy about expressing his feelings than Ron?  
  
She was always somehow reminded of that question, every day. It came out of a look, a comment, or a gesture. *'Perhaps I'm just fantasizing. Maybe he's just a good friend, and I'm reading too much into it.'*  
  
However, the same could be applied to Ron. Though he didn't show his feelings as much as Harry, it was obvious he tensed whenever she entered the room. Once again, Hermione asks herself, is it just her imagination or is it real? Does it really mean something?  
  
Hermione looked around. Same room. Same candle. Same mirror. But something on the floor across the room caught her eye. She couldn't make out the dark shape, but she could see it because it was a slightly different shade of black compared to the surroundings.  
  
Not having the energy to fly, she got on her hands and knees and started to crawl over to the spot. Coldness met her hands where they settled on the floor, but she kept crawling. As she got closer, she began to see the shape of a paper. It was a paper. She picked it up and sat back on her heels.  
  
It was a piece of parchment, seemingly a note. She couldn't make out what was written on it in the blackness so she made her way across the cold, stone floor to the candle. Once there, she held the parchment to the dim, flickering light.  
  
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows when she saw scribbles of words in a different language on the note. She had expected it to be in English, but it definitely wasn't.  
  
*'What's the use of leaving a note that isn't legible? And who left it there? And why?'*  
  
Her mind was suddenly clouded with the many unanswerable questions sparked by one small piece of parchment.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Hey Harry, did you hear?" Ron stepped through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor commonroom, where Harry and several other students were busy doing their homework. Harry looked up from the essay he was writing for Defense Against The Dark Arts on pixies. They had long before gotten over their argument after Herbology, and were speaking to each other again.  
  
"Hear what?" He asked as Ron neared the chair Harry was sitting in and their voices became softer.  
  
"There's gonna be a dance next Friday. They just announced it," Ron told him.  
  
"Oh." Harry didn't have much more to say to it. He began to turn back to the essay but Ron continued.  
  
"You're going, aren't you?" he asked, disappointed by Harry's reaction.  
  
"Sure." *'Heck, why not? I don't have anything else to do.'*  
  
"Are you going to ask Cho Chang to the dance?"  
  
Harry took a moment to answer. "I guess."  
  
"Great! So, um, you don't mind if I ask the new girl?"  
  
*'Huh?'* He raised an eyebrow like he always did when he did not understand something. "Why would I mind?"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Come on, Harry. I saw the way you were looking at her in Herbology. I know you have a thing for her." Ron's lips formed a light smile at the last comment.  
  
Harry was glad they were speaking quietly enough that no one could hear them. He didn't feel comfortable discussing such matters in earshot of anyone else.  
  
"Ron, I don't know what you mean, but even if I did I wouldn't mind at all." That was a complete and total lie. The problem was that he KNEW what Ron meant, and he did feel a twinge of jealousy when Ron announced that he was asking Aurora. But he never would have admitted it to Ron or to himself.  
  
"Okay! See you later!" In an instant Ron was out the door.  
  
*'He must have a huge crush on her. He's running as if a herd of rhinos was after him.'*  
  
Harry refused to tell himself that he liked her, too. Somehow, it didn't feel right. Perhaps it was because the memories of Hermione reminded him of how he cared for her. He felt that pursuing his feelings for Aurora would be . . . forgetting Hermione.  
  
Harry shook his head to dismiss the thoughts and returned his attention to the three-foot essay due the next day.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ron returned about a half an hour later, his head hung in disappointment. He lifted his eyes to meet the questioning look on Harry's face.  
  
*'She turned him down.'*  
  
It was apparent judging by Ron's expression. His face bore a deep frown, and his eyes were slightly squinted. From anger? Or could it have been from a hint of sadness?  
  
*'Aurora doesn't seem the type of person to reject anybody. She must have had a good reason for refusing.'*  
  
"You won't believe who asked her first." Just as Harry predicted.  
  
::: A/N: Okay, to some of you it may seem painfully obvious who asked Aurora, and to some of you it'll take a little sitting down and scratching your head. But I think most of you can figure it out. ***I know this didn't happen in the book, but it could've and I'm making it up anyways. ::: 


	3. Chapter 13

::: A/N: Okay, some of you have asked if this is Harry/Hermione, and I have said that I wasn't sure if it was H/H, but since then I have thought about it a lot. But this is what I concluded: It's not fair if I decide for you what the pairings are. I mean, think about the real Harry Potter books. J. K. Rowling never makes any pairings, but all of you out there have a preference. And whether that pairing is Harry/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Draco/Hermione or whatever, all of these views should be respected. I'm telling this story from many perspectives, including both Harry and Ron, and I'm trying to purposely write it in a way that makes it possible for either Harry/Hermione or Ron/Hermione or neither to be true. Any way you want to interpret it is fine. For instance, in this chapter, you're going to see a lot of Ron's inner feelings. Yes, it has been from Harry's perspective for a while and Ron has seemed like the annoying person who's completely over Hermione. If you think that, read this chapter first, and then decide for yourself. :::  
  
Thanks again to those of you that reviewed!  
  
[Monet]: Thanks, and here you go! ^-^  
  
[Dark Midnightstar]: Like I wrote above, this story can be interpreted as either Harry/Hermione or Ron/Hermione, or neither. It's your choice.  
  
[usha88]: Well, if you think it's Harry/Hermione, like I wrote above, it's completely your choice. I don't want to MAKE you think it's one way or another. But I didn't quite understand what you wrote on the girl. Did you mean the Hermione in the Nesskrad Room, or Aurora? Excuse me for not quite understanding, but if you elaborate a little I'll be happy to respond ^-^. I'm delighted that you like this story! Thank you for reviewing a second time!  
  
I'm still working on Chapter 14, so I'm putting this up first.  
  
Chapter 13: Where Dream and Reality Intersect  
  
Ron found himself in a hallway corridor. He did not remember how he got there, only that he was suddenly transported into it. The hallway was fairly crowded, since many students had just gotten out of class. He looked around, noticing that no one was giving him a single look.  
  
Suddenly he saw Aurora. She was walking away from him, and Ron recognized her by her hair. Curious as to what was going on, he decided to ask.  
  
"Aurora! Hey, Aurora!"  
  
She did not turn around or even seem to notice him. She just kept walking. Thinking he was not loud enough, he called out again. Still no response, only now she was fading into the crowd.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, Ron started to run after her. He made his way through the crowd, accidentally bumping into people. Yet, even when he did, they didn't respond at all.  
  
"AURORA!" Ron was relieved when she appeared in his view again. She stopped and turned around.  
  
But when she turned around, he stopped dead in his tracks in shock. It was no longer Aurora standing there, but Hermione.  
  
"But - but, Hermione, it can't be you!" Ron breathed. "I thought you were dead!"  
  
But she was not looking at him. She was watching someone else behind him. Harry suddenly ran past Ron, stopping just short of Hermione.  
  
Ron ran up to the pair, who were already in a casual conversation.  
  
"Hey, Hermione," Harry said.  
  
"Hi, Harry, I didn't see you back there."  
  
"Umm . . . hi, guys!" Ron said while stepping between them and into their conversation.  
  
They didn't seem to see him, hear him, or notice him. They just kept talking.  
  
"It's really crowded today, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah, it's weird."  
  
"Guys! Hello?" Ron waved his hand in front of their faces. Neither blinked.  
  
"What's wrong with you two?! HELLO?!" Still no answer. Clenching his teeth, he suddenly started yelling at them.  
  
"WHAT THE HELL'S WRONG WITH YOU?! ARE YOU DEAF?!"  
  
No response.  
  
His hands rolled into fists that shook in frustration. "HARRY!! HERMIONE!! HELLO?!"  
  
"We have Potions now, right?"  
  
"Yes, I think so."  
  
"Then we should probably get going."  
  
Harry stepped around an invisible Ron and started to walk with Hermione away into the crowd.  
  
"Hey, wait, guys! You can't leave without me! Guys!" Ron began to walk after them, but they were slowly disappearing into the crowd.  
  
He broke into a run. "Wait, Hermione! Harry!"  
  
They had disappeared farther into the crowd. Ron had to push and shove to keep them in sight. At one point he couldn't see them.  
  
"Hermione! Wait! Please stay! Hermione!"  
  
He sprinted to where he last saw them. As he got there he wildly glanced around, searching for them. But all he saw around him was a flood of people. He looked back toward the direction Harry and Hermione had gone.  
  
Defeat slowly gripped a hold on Ron. He slowed to a stop, no longer looking for them. He just watched the crowd before him, helplessly hoping that Hermione would appear again. She didn't.  
  
"Hermione . . ."  
  
Defeated, he fell to his knees, his head bent down and stared at the floor beneath him. A soft whisper escaped between his parted lips as he gasped for air.  
  
"Please, don't go."  
  
The crowd flowed around him like a river, not caring that the stone before it was slowly eroding in his despair.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ron suddenly awoke, sitting straight up. He was panting, as if he was actually yelling. His pajamas were stuck to his body because of his sweat.  
  
With that realization, he calmed down. Harry and Hermione had not seen, heard or felt his presence. It was as if he wasn't even there.  
  
It was then that he noticed wetness on one side of his face. As he reached up and his fingers grazed it, he realized it was a tear. Frowning, he angrily brushed it away with his sleeve. He let his arm fall at his side.  
  
He closed his eyes.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A small, four-year-old could be heard laughing. He was flying freely on his little broomstick. To an experienced flyer, the broom would have been a piece of junk. But to this little boy, it was the best thing in the world.  
  
He continued laughing, circling about six feet above the grass. It was his own, miniature heaven.  
  
The boy started leaning toward his right. Too far. Losing his balance, he slipped off the broom and fell a long, scary six feet. He barely let out a scream before he hit the ground and the wind was knocked out of him.  
  
Sitting himself back up, the little boy fully experienced the pain of his fall. He started crying, tears rolling down his plump cheeks.  
  
"Hey, George, it sounds like he fell off." The little boy's twin older brothers appeared.  
  
"Fred, look, we don't have just one sister anymore!" George pointed his finger at the boy.  
  
"Yeah, Ronniekins is really a wimpy little girl!" Both of them laughed at him.  
  
This only made the tears fall harder. "Stop it, you guys!" Ron pleaded, looking up at them with hurt, innocent eyes.  
  
"Ooooo, Ronniekins doesn't like us making fun of him!" Fred turned to George. "Come on, George, stop it, you're really hurting his FEELINGS!"  
  
"Oh, I guess I should! After all, this little baby can't take it!"  
  
"I'm not a baby!" Ron shook his head. The grass received rain from a clear sky.  
  
George gasped. "Someone get mom over here! The baby's talking! And his first words were 'I'm not a baby!'"  
  
"That's amazing! When I first talked all I said was, 'Goo goo, ga ga'!"  
  
Ron clenched his teeth, allowing him to taste the saltiness of his own tears. "Please, stop it!"  
  
" 'Please, stop it!'" Fred imitated. George laughed even harder. "Oh, dear brother, please stop it!" Fred got down on his knees and tugged on George's robes. George nearly doubled over in laughter.  
  
Crying even harder, Ron struggled as he got to his feet and ran away as fast as his little legs would carry him.  
  
"What's the matter, Ronniekins? Want to go cry to your mommy?" Their laughter followed Ron, even as he ran farther away toward his house. Once he was there, he ran through an open door into the kitchen where his mom was washing dishes.  
  
"MOMMY!" He screamed. Suddenly he was completely out of breath from crying and running and screaming. He bent over, taking in raspy gasps of air.  
  
"Ron!" Mrs. Weasely dropped the plate she was holding which fell and shattered on the stone tiles of he kitchen floor. Ignoring the pieces of scattered porcelain, she hurried over to him.  
  
"Ron, are you alright?" She bent down to look at his face.  
  
He peered up at her and immediately saw how worried she was. Fear grasped him. He didn't like to see her upset. He didn't want to upset her any more.  
  
He lifted his sleeve, straightened up, and wiped the dirt and tears off of his face. He looked up again and smiled at her with a small sniff.  
  
"I'm fine, mommy. I just fell, that's all."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ron lied back down and turned over, trying to fall asleep. But he realized it was no use, since he could see the sun already starting to rise above the horizon.  
  
Getting up, he kicked the covers off of himself and swung his legs over the bedside. He quietly walked over to the window and sit on a chair next to it. He proceeded to watch the sunrise and the sky changing from a black midnight color to brilliant red, orange and yellow.  
  
As he stared off into the distance, thinking.  
  
He started to think more about the dance.  
  
The sky's brilliant colors slowly faded into the familiar blue.  
  
He paused.  
  
His mind made up, Ron finally rose, walked over to his bed, pulled out some clothes and changed. He proceeded to go downstairs, sit in the chair in the commonroom, and wait for Lavender to wake up.  
  
::: A/N: . . . right then. Now, on to the fun part . . . ::: 


	4. Chapter 14

::: A/N: Alright! The Dance! *Evil grin* This is actually my longest chapter yet. Yay! But it has also been the one I had to revise the most. Of course I had to make it perfect! Did I mention I'm a perfectionist? :P  
  
By the way, and I should have mentioned this earlier, I have a co-writer. She doesn't feel like she should get much credit, but come on, she gave me a lot of the ideas and helps me revise the chapters. In fact, the reason this chapter took so long was because both of us worked hard on revising it. A round of applause to the mysterious co-worker! *starts clapping loudly* *suddenly realizes she is the only one clapping* *slows claps to an eventual halt* Ahem, moving on . . .  
  
You can skip the answers to reviews if you're bored . . . or is it the other way around? :::  
  
[babybear]: Really? 0.0 Wow, I . . . I really don't know what to say! I know it's wrong to make someone cry and be happy about it, but I can't believe it was that moving! I did try my best . . . I think I was in a depressed mood at the time. So, I see you've joined the "I will kill random- chan if she does not bring Hermione back soon" club. That makes five members so far (counting a few of my friends at school)! ^-^ Staying on topic, she will come back but I still have some plans for her, Harry, Ron, and Aurora! Thanks for your complements and for reviewing, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
  
[lady priestess]: You really love that couple, don't you? ^-^ Thanks for reviewing again!  
  
[usha88]: I really have to say I always look forward to your reviews! I can't tell you how happy they make me. It was extremely encouraging to hear that you understood what I was saying. Need proof? Well, to tell the truth, I started jumping up and down and squealing in joy! Then my neighbors who live below actually came up, knocked on the door and asked me to keep it down . . . that was a little embarrassing XP . . . I can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter (and hopefully I'll be able to contain myself next time)!  
  
[I'm A Dreamer]: *blinks* *blinks again* Well, when you said you would give a huge review, I didn't know you would write THAT much! @_@ *sighs* Okay, then . . . It's peculiar that there are grammar errors, I usually revise it twice and then give it to my co-writer to revise! Oh well. Yes, I know they aren't American, but I don't know what British people might say in those situations! Cut me some slack here, dreamer!! I'm glad you could see the improvements I made. I'll try to slow down, though. I see your point on that. And, you know that "Dude, she's hot" thing? Originally, I had put down "Do you know what the AMERICANS would say . . ." but then I realized that was stereotypical so I cut it out and replaced it with "people". You're not gonna tell me about the tear?! .\_/. Grrr! That's blackmail! Fine then. Here's your update, and now I want answers!  
  
P.S. To all of you innocent readers who just happened to read the response above, my apologies for your confusion or curiosity. I'm guilty of hiding inside jokes! Just ignore the last part. *_*  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*(((IMPORTANT))) I've been having some trouble with marking thoughts, so from now on instead of doing the HTML tab things I'm doing * . . . *. I apologize for any confusion! *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
Chapter 14: A Cauldron of Dreams and Nightmares  
  
*~ "If I don't need you, then why am I crying on my bed?  
"If I don't need you, then why does your name resound in my head?" ~*  
- Daniel Bedingfield, "If You're Not The One"***  
  
Harry walked into the Great Hall once again, but this time it was not for a meal, nor for a funeral. This time, it was 8:00 in the evening and everyone was dressed up in his or her best robes. It was the anticipated and exciting dance.  
  
Harry paused for one moment to take in the surroundings. Loud music was blasting from one end of the room where a boy band was banging on their instruments and calling it "music". Harry flinched when the guy on the guitar struck a high note. Cho, who was standing by his side with her left arm locked in with Harry's, raised her free hand to her ear in an attempt to block out the deafening music.  
  
Once Harry gotten used to the intense "music", he began to take in the rest of the room. There was a big dance floor directly in front of the band, followed by an arrangement of round tables. Each was covered by a white tablecloth and was surrounded by eight chairs with a small vase of beautiful flowers in the middle. Eight sets of silverware and plates occupied the perimeter of the tables, along with eight fancy menus. Harry found it slightly strange that there were menus, but he quickly brushed it off. He also noticed a small, bent card hovering above each plate. There seemed to be writing on them. As he squinted, he could read names.  
  
Following the actions of all the other students, Harry and Cho walked toward the tables searching for their names. All the names were those of older students since the dance was not for newer kids. Of course, the cards magically knew who came with whom, so dates were arranged next to each other.  
  
Harry finally found the cards that said Harry Potter and Cho Chang. He walked over with Cho and looked around the table.  
  
Two of the students he did not know. They were seventh-years, which he could tell because of their towering height. However, he did not pay much attention to them, as the girl and boy seemed to be engaged in a deep discussion.  
  
He breathed a small sigh of relief as he saw Ron. He looked very bored as he rested his head on an elbow as his date, Lavender, droned on and on about something he couldn't catch. He couldn't help smiling in amusement. Ron saw him, and smiled. Harry smiled back, and Ron glanced at Lavender and rolled his eyes. Harry nodded in understanding. Then Ron gave him another look that Harry didn't understand. Ron twitched his head toward his right. Harry turned toward where he was gesturing.  
  
* 'Great.'*  
  
Harry quietly scanned Aurora Withertopp, who was sitting next to Ron with her body turned toward her date. She was wearing navy blue robes. She had some makeup on, but her pale skin was still visible. She wore pink lipstick and a hint of light blue eyeshadow. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, which slightly shifted as she nodded to her date with a smile. Harry's eyes moved on to her date.  
  
He froze.  
  
* 'Oh, shit!'*  
  
Her date wore green robes, had light skin and blonde hair that was slicked back.  
  
He was none other than the despicable, sly, deceiving, annoying, dreadful, and arrogant snake by the name of Draco Malfoy.  
  
Malfoy glanced over to where Harry and Cho were standing and stopped talking. With a smile, he turned toward them and looked them over.  
  
"Harry, Cho, how nice it is to see you both!" Harry narrowed his eyes as Malfoy used his first name. His voice was falsely sweet. Obviously trying to impress Aurora.  
  
Harry responded in a low voice that nearly dripped with bitterness, his eyes locked in with Malfoy's.  
  
"I highly doubt it."  
  
He felt pressure on his arm but chose to ignore it.  
  
Malfoy did not lose his smile.  
  
"Come now, Harry, there's no need to be bitter."  
  
Harry glared at him, silently spitting his message out.  
  
Never . . . call . . . me . . . Harry.  
  
He couldn't tell if Malfoy got the message, since his smile did not falter.  
  
"Won't you both sit down and join us?"  
  
Harry answered with a smirk. "Unfortunately it seems we don't have a choice."  
  
This time he got an elbow digging into his ribs. He winced and stared at Cho who was giving him a harsh look. She changed it to a smile as she turned her head toward Malfoy and Aurora.  
  
"He means we'd love to."  
  
She started to sit down in her seat and Harry followed suit, but he never took his eyes off Malfoy. Malfoy turned and continued to talk to Aurora.  
  
"Harry!" The whisper came from Cho. For once, he took his eyes off Malfoy and he turned to face her.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?" She asked with a deep frown.  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you believe this bull?"  
  
Her eyebrows furrowed. "Of course I don't, but can't you just be polite?"  
  
"To him?" Harry's eyes shot to where Malfoy had begun entertaining Aurora again.  
  
"Yes, to him!" Cho was really upset.  
  
"Fine, fine!"  
  
Cho relaxed and started to engage in a conversation with Lavender, leaving Ron and Harry to talk. Actually, what they wanted to talk about was not something they wanted to say loudly in front of anywhere else. Instead, just as before, they communicated with their gestures.  
  
Ron glanced toward where Malfoy was and raised both of his eyebrows. Translation: Unbelievable!  
  
Harry furrowed his eyebrows a little. Translation: Could you believe that crap?  
  
Ron shook his head. Then, he shrugged. Translation: Nope. But what can you do?  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. Translation: Guess we've just got to deal.  
  
Ron nodded.  
  
Before their silent conversation could continue, they were interrupted by the music being cut off. The silence was so immense Harry yearned for any noise. Turning their attention toward the stage, the students saw Dumbledore standing in the middle behind the magical microphone. It immediately grew to fit Dumbledore's height perfectly. Whispers arose at the peculiar sight of him.  
  
At last, Dumbledore spoke. "Pardon me for interrupting, but would all Prefects please meet outside the Great Hall for a brief mandatory meeting? Thank you." He stepped back down and some of the students started to get up and leave. The music came back on.  
  
Harry watched as Cho rose to walk away. * 'Of course, I nearly forgot, she's a Prefect.'* She was closely followed by the two seventh years.  
  
Lavender suddenly spoke up as a slow song started. "Hey Ron, come one, let's go dance a little!"  
  
Ron's eyes widened. "I don't think - "  
  
She frowned. "Come on, what are dances for?"  
  
"But I - " Ron protested as Lavender got up, pulled him out of his seat, and dragged him off. Harry watched with some amusement.  
  
Then Malfoy stood up. Meeting Harry's questioning gaze, he smiled.  
  
"Are you surprised, Harry?"  
  
Harry's eyes narrowed sharply.  
  
"You shouldn't be. After all, my father is on the school committee, and all he did was tell his fellow workers about me . . ."  
  
"You mean blackmail," Harry muttered.  
  
Malfoy continued as if he didn't hear anything. " . . . and they unanimously agreed that I would make a good Prefect."  
  
Harry smirked. "Sure, Malfoy."  
  
Ignoring him, Malfoy walked around Aurora, placing one arm around her shoulders as he did so. Aurora didn't seem to react to this very much, but Harry's hands rolled into fists under the table.  
  
* 'That sneaky . . .'*  
  
Bending down to were Aurora's face was, Malfoy whispered into her ear (but loudly enough for Harry to hear), "I'll be right back, baby."  
  
She smiled lightly.  
  
Harry felt sick.  
  
Then, for just a moment, Malfoy took off his mask and glared at Harry across the table. With a frown deeply etched into his face, he sent a clear message.  
  
Hands off.  
  
Harry glared back with the same intensity, sending another clear message.  
  
We'll see.  
  
Malfoy immediately put his sweet mask on again, smiling at Aurora. He let his arm slide across her shoulders as he slowly walked away, leaving Aurora and Harry alone.  
  
Harry kept glaring at Malfoy's back, as if trying to burn a hole through it.  
  
* 'He's acting just like the animal he is. Trying to mark his "territory".'*  
  
"Jerk."  
  
Harry turned to Aurora, stunned by what she said. It seemed she had been wearing a mask the whole time, too, because her face bore a disgusted frown as she, too, stared after him.  
  
"Excuse me?" He asked, blinking.  
  
"He's such a jerk."  
  
He was relieved that she felt the same way. His worries slowly melted away. "You're telling me."  
  
"I mean, he was acting so . . . possessive!" Her shoulders tightened a little.  
  
Harry widened his eyes. "Exactly what I was thinking!"  
  
"Is he really as bad as this?" She looked at him and for the first time Harry relaxed.  
  
"You bet," he told her, "He's always like that. He even calls Muggle-born witches and wizards 'Mudbloods' behind their backs."  
  
It suddenly struck him hard WHOM Malfoy called a Mudblood. Suddenly the conversation seemed completely wrong. Harry didn't feel good at all.  
  
Aurora's eyes narrowed and her lips grew tighter. "Oh, really?"  
  
"Yes," he said.  
  
"Well, now that I know him, I wish I hadn't agreed to be his date in the first place!"  
  
"It's not you're fault. You're new here."  
  
"I guess," she said with a sigh, her head slightly bent.  
  
There was something about her that made Harry feel comfortable. Now, he felt like he could tell her anything, and she wouldn't judge him.  
  
The soft music was playing in the background, soothing the atmosphere.  
  
Then, his thoughts came out of his mouth before he could stop them.  
  
"Would you like to dance?" Suddenly, he bit his lip, scolding himself for saying that out loud. Her head lifted a little.  
  
"I mean, um," he said as he stumbled for words, "If you want to, I mean, you don't have to, of course, I mean, um - "  
  
"I'd love to."  
  
Harry met her gaze, overjoyed and a little shocked. "Really?"  
  
"Yes." She smiled at him, and he immediately saw that this one was different from the ones she had given Malfoy before. This one was real.  
  
He beamed back. "Okay, then . . ."  
  
They both got up at the same time, and walked around the table. Gulping slightly, he took her hand in his own and they went together to the dance floor. This time, neither flinched at the touch.  
  
Finally reaching their destination, they both stopped simultaneously. Turning toward each other, Harry felt a little nervous about dancing. Suddenly it struck him that he didn't know how to dance.  
  
* 'Oh, no, what was I thinking?' *  
  
But Aurora's smile reassured him that it was okay. He smiled back. Hesitantly, he reached for her waist as her arms raised toward him. In what seemed like a VERY long time, her hands were placed between his shoulders and his neck and his hands rested around the curve of her waist. Harry's muscles were a little tense, but relaxed as they begun to sway back and forth to the music of a new song that had just begun.  
  
It felt magical as Harry gazed into the depths of her beautiful eyes. They truly did look like sparkling jewels, and after a while it looked like an emerald green sea, white pools shining on the surface. She was slightly shorter than Harry was, so they kept their heads level as each studied the other's eyes. They were both silent until Aurora spoke.  
  
"So, where do you live?"  
  
"I live in Surrey."  
  
"That's nearby, isn't it?"  
  
"I guess you could say that."  
  
This was proceeded by another pause. Harry took this time to listen to the song they were swaying to. A feminine voice was singing. ((Mariah Carey, "Never Forget You"))  
  
I won't see your smile.  
  
And I won't hear you  
  
Laugh anymore.  
  
Every night  
  
I won't see you  
  
Walk through that door . . .  
  
He was struck by those words.  
  
* 'Hermione . . .' *  
  
Harry's happiness was suddenly shattered into a million pieces.  
  
* 'What the hell am I doing? This is all wrong! I'm forgetting her! She's dead, and here I am dancing with a girl and having fun!' *  
  
"Is there something wrong?"  
  
He was pulled back into reality. Aurora was looking at him, curiosity and concern on her features.  
  
"No," he said, though he could no longer muster a smile. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"You just seem preoccupied, that's all."  
  
"No, I'm fine."  
  
Silence again. Harry wasn't watching Aurora anymore. For some unknown reason he felt as though he had to keep listening to the song.  
  
No, I'll never forget you  
  
I'll never let you out of my heart  
  
You will always be here with me  
  
I'll hold on to the memories baby  
  
* 'But I AM forgetting her . . . no, I can't do that. I have to remember Hermione. She was an incredible friend, and how am I paying her back? By going to a dance and having fun after she's dead?' *  
  
"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
They continued to dance, but Harry was listening to the lyrics.  
  
Baby, can you hear me  
  
Wherever you  
  
May be tonight, oh  
  
Are you near me  
  
I need you to be by  
  
My side . . .  
  
No, I'll never forget you  
  
I'll never let you out of my heart  
  
You will always be here with me  
  
I'll hold on to the memories baby  
  
Yeah  
  
Somewhere I know you'll be  
  
With me  
  
Someday in another time  
  
But right now you're gone  
  
You just vanished away  
  
But I'll never leave  
  
You behind . . .  
  
"WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON HERE?!"  
  
Harry was snapped back into reality as Aurora jumped, startled by the booming voice. Harry spun around, as he himself was startled . . . and guilty.  
  
"Malfoy - "  
  
Draco Malfoy was fuming about four feet away. With fists clenched and eyes wide in fury, he glanced at each one of Harry and Aurora's faces. Harry was in shock, staring at Malfoy and not knowing what to do, say or think. Aurora, however, looked at Malfoy with. . . . Harry couldn't make out what she was thinking.  
  
"Is there a problem, Draco?" She asked. Her voice was steady, but when Harry glanced at her he was shocked at the flame in her eyes.  
  
Malfoy glared back at her with the same fire.  
  
"Yes, there is, unless you think that dancing with someone other than me is acceptable!"  
  
"Just /what/ exactly do you mean by that?" She spat at him. Harry kept looking at the two of them, startled by the intensity of their stares.  
  
"I mean, if you didn't know already, that I am your date and not /him/!" He shot a look at Harry who instinctively glared back.  
  
"So, you don't want me dancing with other guys?" She crossed her arms.  
  
"Obviously!"  
  
"Well, then, here's a little piece of information for you. I can do as I like."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You heard me."  
  
"I did, but there's no way you just said that," he informed her.  
  
"Then read my lips," she said as she bent forward, "I . . . Am . . . Not . . . Your . . . Property!"  
  
"That means," Aurora continued when Malfoy didn't answer, "that you have no right telling me what I can and can't do like I belong to you. Besides . . ." She said with a pause as she straightened, " . . . you wouldn't like me. Not after I you know that I'm half . . . What do you call them, Draco? Mudblood?"  
  
Draco's eyes drastically widened. He opened his mouth as if trying to talk, but closed it again.  
  
"Well, then, I guess there isn't anything more to say. Good night Draco, Harry."  
  
She walked briskly out of the room, seemingly having no regrets about what she just did.  
  
Harry looked back at Malfoy and took in a silent gasp. If there was a flame in his eyes before, there was an inferno now. His face was completely twisted in rage. Not only had Harry danced with his date, but he told her about the 'Mudblood' thing too.  
  
"Mark . . . my . . . words . . . Potter . . ." he slowly spat out, "You . . . will . . . pay . . . for . . . this!!"  
  
Without another word, he walked past Harry, purposely pushing him aside as he bumped Harry's shoulder. Harry recoiled a little, but quickly straightened out and watched Malfoy exit the Great Hall in the same fashion as Aurora.  
  
It was then that Harry noticed that most of the other students were staring and had been staring for a long time. Harry glanced around and sighed. After all, it wasn't anything new for him.  
  
"Haaarrrryyyyy . . . "  
  
The soft and stern voice made him stiffen in dread. He turned to see Cho, realizing that he had been watching the entire time. With her brows furrowed and her arms folded, she tapped her foot impatiently.  
  
"Um, hi, Cho . . ." That was the only thing he could think of saying.  
  
She tilted her head to the side, irritated. "I'm waiting . . ."  
  
* Oh, boy - * He thought while fumbling in his mind for a reasonable excuse or explanation for what he had done.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
::: ***Don't ask about the David Beddingfield thing. I was just listening to his song and realized that those two lines fit perfectly in Chapter 13. And ONLY those two lines, mind you. So, there you have it. The dance. But, despite what you may think, this story isn't just a soap opera with friendship and betrayal and . . . oops, I forgot to add in the classic betrayed-girl to innocent-guy slap. Oh well.  
  
And here's a little humor for those of you who are bored. Actually, when my friends read this part, most of them raised their eyebrows and said, "Ooookkkaaayyy . . .". Nothing to do with the story, just something I made up.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry was struck by those words.  
  
* 'Hermione . . .' *  
  
Harry's happiness was suddenly crushed into a million pieces.  
  
* 'What the hell am I doing? This is all wrong! I'm forgetting her! She's dead, and here I am dancing with a girl and having fun!' *  
  
Harry: *jumps away from Aurora* NO, I CAN'T DO THIS!! I LOVE HERMIONE! Wait a second . . .  
  
Director: CUT! Harry, come on, that's not your line! It's Aurora's line! 'Is there something wrong?' And remember, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, you're not supposed to declare whether or not you think of Hermione more than a friend! That's for the reader to decide!  
  
Harry: I'm sorry! It's just so hard that way, I have to act neutral all the time.  
  
Director: That's the beauty of this story! Conflicting emotions . . . friendship and betrayal . . . ahh, the troubles never cease!  
  
Harry: Well, if you could just change the script a little so it's decided whether or not I love Hermione . . .  
  
Director: Forget it Harry. ALL RIGHT, TAKE 73!  
  
Aurora: I just can't take this anymore. HE keeps on SCREWING UP and I have to do this seventy-four times because of that?! I can't take this anymore! I'll be in my trailer!  
  
Aurora stomps off, pushing a table on its side and sitting down behind it and out of view.  
  
Ron: She's such an idiot. That isn't a trailer!  
  
Aurora: I can still hear you, you jerk!  
  
Director: All right, settle down. Someone get Aurora out of her . . . "trailer" so we can start from the top!  
  
Lavender: Oooo, we get to do the whole scene again! Yay!  
  
Ron: Get away from me!  
  
Lavender: What the hell's up with you? Are you afraid of cooties?!  
  
Ron: Noooo, if you haven't noticed I'm afraid of YOU!  
  
Lavender: *lifting her nose into the air* You're the only one.  
  
Ron: I doubt it.  
  
Director: *interrupts* Someone go get Draco in here!  
  
No one volunteers so the director gets up and walks off stage.  
  
Harry: He's probably admiring at himself in a mirror.  
  
A few seconds later, being heard from off stage . . .  
  
Director: DRACO, GET IN HERE! WE'LL BUY YOU A PORTABLE MIRROR, JUST GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE NOW!!  
  
Draco: All right, already, don't give yourself a heart attack!  
  
Hermione: *Watching from a seat by the director's chair* This is all so amusing!  
  
Ron: Oh, shut up. You're dead.  
  
Hermione: Brilliant deduction, Ron. Did you come up with that ALL by yourself?  
  
Ron: *mumbling* Thinks she knows every damn thing . . . Miss "I'd die if I got a 99" Smarty Pants . . .  
  
Hermione: You're not very good at mumbling. I can hear you over here. 


	5. Chapter 15

::: A/N: School's out! That means I can spend more time on my story since I have no life! Yay! ^-^  
  
For some reason, I've been getting reviews by mail but they haven't been posted. It even says 24 reviews, but there's only 17! To those of you who submitted a review but didn't find it, I'm sorry. So, I've posted all the reviews that didn't show up at the end of this chapter. Scroll all the way down to read them.  
  
Now, to the joyful task of answering the reviews . . . :::  
  
[TaioraCrazedGirl]: I'm glad you liked the last part. Haha, now I can show your review to my non-humorous friends and say, "Look! THEY think it's funny!" ^-^ Hmmm, it's too bad you didn't say 'I'm going to kill you if you don't bring Hermione back soon'. That would've officially made you the sixth member of the "I'm going to kill Random-chan if she doesn't bring Hermione back soon" club. ~_^ Thanks, and here's the next chapter!  
  
[usha88]: I was able to contain my excitement this time. Actually, my hand is hurting because I've been typing up the pile of homework the teachers dumped on us at the last second. Grrr . . . So, thanks for being such a loyal reviewer, and I hope you like this chapter as well! :)  
  
[Monet]: Yay! Okay, you are the Sherlock Holmes of all the reviewers! Not a single person ever asked how or why Hermione died, and no one else got that last piece either . . . *grins* Oops, I just gave that away . . . but maybe it's okay to give a little hint. Now then, I shall now give you this magnifying glass . . . *gives Monet a magnifying glass* Trust me, you're gonna need it later this story, there's a lot more puzzles to come for you to figure out! ~_^  
  
[Sunny]: Thanks, and Harry will find out, but unfortunately it will be later rather than sooner. But that's only because there's a lot I want to stick in before then. You do have a good point in your second review, I'll be sure to discuss that with the mysterious co-writer. Thanks for reviewing three separate times! ^-^  
  
[Sunshine Stargirl]: Thanks! I hope I updated quickly enough . . . P.S. I like your name! ^-^  
  
[Hermione]: Hi Hermione! ^-^ Hey guys, look, it's my mysterious co-writer! Hey, you left before I could sneak into your suitcase!! I finished this chapter long ago but you left me! Waah! And you know how I found out you were gone? Your mom came over to help us move into the new house, and I casually asked where you and you sister were, and she said, "They're in Greece". Me: *jaw drops* Excuse me? Your mom: Oh, she didn't tell you? Me: *jaw is still hanging open* -no comment- (thinking: How dare she! Aaaahhh! ~.~)  
  
[whereswaldo]: Sorry about the corrections thing. We have just become aware of the numerous mistakes we had overlooked during revisions (we were trying to act out a part of the skit, don't ask, and we realized that there were many mistakes in just one page). What I would like to hear from you about is what you don't like at the end of chapter fourteen, and how do you think would make it better. Thanks for reading and reviewing! :)  
  
[jonzee]: Really? You think so? Oh, thank you so much! You should've seen what happened when I got your review! I swear it brightened up my day! Plus, when I read it to my co-writer over the phone, she was silent for a few moments and then said, "Woah! S/He really likes this story!" ((Sorry about the s/he thing. No offense, we don't know which you are . . . )) Thank you so much and I hope you aren't disappointed by this chapter! :)  
  
[Insanity]: Hey! ^-^ Betcha only reviewed 'cause I just reviewed yours and you felt guilty! Jk! ^-^ Thanks, I realized this story was /way/ too directed at Harry and there needed to be some heart-felt emotions on Ron's part. -he, he- ((That sounds funny when you say it out loud . . . hehehehe! Yes, I am high on sugar at the moment, don't tell me you could guess! :o *gasp*)) Talk to you soon! ^-^  
  
THE FIFTH HARRY POTTER BOOK IS FINALLY OUT!!! ^-^ ^-^ ^-^ I have to say, it is much more angst than the other ones, and I can't believe what JK Rowling did at the end! I swear I almost cried! Of course, I still love her books, and now . . . how annoying, I have to wait /again/ for the next one! -___________- Bleh.  
  
Hmmm, maybe it would be a good idea to actually write some of the story now . . . Oh, I must resist the temptation to insert parts of the fifth book in here, it wouldn't be fair to the poor souls who haven't read it yet . . . (if you are one of these poor souls, I beg, no, command you to get your hands or paws or whatever on a copy NOW!! Thank you, enjoy your stay.)  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter 15: Snakes and Secrets  
  
Dumbledore's gentle face reflected upon Hermione's tired, tortured mind. A symbol of courage, trust, and reliability that brought a flickering ray of hope into the dim room where she was trapped.  
  
He was there in their first year when she was a nervous first-year, building up her self-esteem and inspiring her to work hard and do her best on everything.  
  
He was there at every meal, a silent presence that reassured the carefree students that no menacing evil could ever touch them.  
  
He was there when Harry lay dying on the floor, thrashing in pain under the heartless grip of the almighty Lord Voldemort.  
  
He was there to mercifully grant Harry and Ron another chance when they crashed into the Weeping Willow.  
  
He was there to tell Hermione that, despite being Petrified, everything would turn out all right and to raise her hopes when all seemed lost.  
  
He was there to supervise the Triwizard Tournament and to cheer on any side.  
  
He was there to defeat the Mad-Eye Moody imposter and uncover the truth about him.  
  
He was there every day when anyone needed help, standing strong like an unbreakable pillar for all to lean on.  
  
*But where is he now?*  
  
A dark cloud rose out of nowhere and clogged the thin beam of light, plunging Hermione's world into darkness. Sorrow crept like a snake toward her . . .  
  
*Where is the inspiration?*  
  
The snake drew closer . . .  
  
*Where is the hope?*  
  
It gradually encircled her . . .  
  
*Where is the reassurance?*  
  
Its skin rubbed against her, starting to contract . . .  
  
*Where is the second chance?*  
  
Its grip tightened . . .  
  
*Where is the gentleness?*  
  
Tighter . . .  
  
*Where is the smile?*  
  
She choked as her chest was crushed inward . . .  
  
*Where is the light?*  
  
Gasping, she did not even lift a finger against the snake . . .  
  
*Dumbledore . . .*  
  
She heaved a ragged breath, closing her eyes as the snake grinned, showing its long, terrible fangs . . .  
  
*I need you, Dumbledore . . .*  
  
The snake's head came closer to her, its mouth wide and fangs poised . . .  
  
*Where are you?*  
  
She felt its hot breath on her skin . . .  
  
*Please . . .*  
  
The fangs pierced her neck, sinking deeper and deeper, and a jolt of pain ensnared her body . . .  
  
*Dumbledore . . .*  
  
She heaved a short breath as the poison seeped through her blood toward her beating heart . . .  
  
*Where are you?*  
  
The poison grasped her heart, squeezing as it started to skip beats, and she opened her eyes in fear and pain . . .  
  
*I need you . . .*  
  
Hermione took one last breath as her blood slowed, and then closed her eyes, surrendering to the snake while her heart ceased beating.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Hermione woke, gasping and clutching her chest. Her eyes were wide, blinking, staring across the room as if she had seen Lord Voldemort himself there.  
  
She frantically looked around her at the dark room. Her breathing eased as she assured herself that she was okay.  
  
It had only been a nightmare . . .  
  
But was it only a nightmare?  
  
It felt so real . . .  
  
Hermione raised her right hand and hesitantly stroked the place the snake had bitten her with a soft scrape of her fingertips. There was no sign of the two punctures, no wave of pain that washed her body.  
  
What did it mean?  
  
Her thoughts drifted back to Dumbledore, whose face she doubted she would see again, ever. She pulled her legs toward her, knees bending, and tightly hugged them as she kept thinking.  
  
*He was always watching over us . . . always . . .*  
  
She sighed.  
  
*I wonder if he's watching over me now . . .*  
  
"I'm watching over you."  
  
Hermione gasped in fear when she heard a low, monotone voice. Whipping her head around, her eyes searched for the source. But she didn't see anyone at all.  
  
"W-w-who's there?" she asked quietly.  
  
No answer but the flicker of the candle.  
  
Gathering up her courage, she tried again. "I said, who's there?"  
  
Silence.  
  
Hermione grew bolder. "Come on, show yourself, or are you a coward?"  
  
But she knew inside of her that whoever it was couldn't have felt more cowardly than she did at that moment.  
  
No one answered, but something did catch her eye. The note was lying next to her, which seemed normal enough, but for some reason she felt a strange attraction to it. She felt tempted to pick it up, to have it in her hands. Seeing no point in resisting, Hermione picked it up and glanced at the strange characters. Her eyes suddenly darted to the last sentence.  
  
It said, "I'm watching over you".  
  
The faintest flicker of a smile appeared on her weary face. She could read it at last.  
  
She looked at the rest of the note, expecting to be able to read it. But she couldn't.  
  
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows and concentrated. *I should be able to do it. I read the last sentence . . . *  
  
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't. She looked back at the last sentence. It hadn't been changed at all, but she clearly read it, it said, "I'm watching over you".  
  
*What's going on?* She searched the darkness for an answer.  
  
It wasn't as if she had expected a response, but she was still disappointed when there was none.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Days passed. Weeks passed. To a normal person, what happened during this period of time would bear little significance. But to Harry this time would prove to be wonderful.  
  
Harry and Ron got to know Aurora better, since she had most of her classes with them. The most memorable experience was her first day of Potions, when Professor Snape made Harry and Ron pair up for potion making. Both of them didn't know what was going on, but weren't going to complain. To Snape's displeasure, there were an odd number of students in class, so Aurora was left out. Before he could put her in a group with Malfoy, she raised her hand and caught his attention again.  
  
"Yes, Ms. Withertopp?" He said slowly.  
  
"Excuse me, Professor, but would you mind if I worked with Harry and Ron? I'd like to watch them for a while before trying it myself."  
  
Harry and Ron looked over quickly. They had not expected Aurora to mention them, let alone ask to work with them.  
  
"Oh boy, she's going to get it," whispered Ron as he eyed Snape's motionless features.  
  
Harry nodded, also watching.  
  
But, miraculously, Snape's lips curled into a smile. "Of course you may."  
  
Aurora smiled sweetly at him, and then got up to face Harry and Ron, who were still thunderstruck by Snape's reaction. Meanwhile, Aurora had walked over to their cauldron.  
  
As soon as she reached them, she said very quietly, "I'm really sorry, it's just . . . if you would rather I go work with someone else, it's okay with me."  
  
Harry and Ron both welcomed her with a smile. "Not at all," Harry said, feeling he was going to enjoy to this Potion class.  
  
Aurora smiled at them. Ron, who had never spoken to her beside the time he asked her to the dance, remained silent.  
  
Aurora looked up at the board where the recipe for the /Cure for Dragon- Inflicted Infection Potion/ was. Her smile faded. "Could he have chosen a harder potion?"  
  
"I know," Ron said, getting over his shyness, "It's his strategy. My guess is that he knew there would be a new Gryfindor girl in his class today and he wanted to select the hardest ever just as an excuse to fail you."  
  
"I'll bet he does that all the time," she said.  
  
Ron seemed to become increasingly relaxed throughout the conversation. "How did you figure that out?"  
  
"Well, I can see he favors Draco," she said while glancing toward the front of the room where Malfoy was proudly showing off his potion making skills to Snape, "and now that I know what Draco's like, I wouldn't have been surprised at all."  
  
"Nothing gets by you, does it?" Harry said, recalling their conversation at the dance. Aurora smiled.  
  
"I try. But, anyways, we should probably get started on our potion or Professor Snape will make us regret it."  
  
Harry and Ron nodded in agreement and they split up the work. After a while, however, Snape had wandered his way over to their cauldron. They looked at him with questioning expressions while dreading the worst.  
  
"So, Ms. Withertopp, are you experienced with potion making?"  
  
In an unmistakably innocent voice, she said, "I suppose so, I did take Potions at my old school, sir."  
  
"Ah, I see," Snape continued, "Then tell me, Ms.Withertopp, what is the key ingredient in a /Glory Brew/?"  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged looks as each realized why they had been put in such a group: So Snape could have more fun with them. They were bound to get into trouble, and he was looking for any excuse to punish them. But neither of them knew the answer. They both looked at Aurora, who seemed flustered.  
  
"I . . . I . . . I don't know, sir."  
  
This immediately reminded Harry of his own first encounter with Snape.  
  
Snape's eyebrows went up and the entire class was watching at this point.  
  
"Well then, let's try this: Why is a /Glory Brew/ difficult to make?"  
  
"I'm afraid I don't know, sir."  
  
"Then let's try once more. Which potion would you use if I wanted you to cure Purple Griffin-itis with symptoms of coughing up blood, green, fleshy warts and involuntary scratching?"  
  
"I - I don't know, sir."  
  
"The key ingredient in /Glory Brew/ is goat's milk. It is difficult to make because a single drop more or less than specified leads to an explosion fatal to everything in a kilometer radius. There is no cure for Purple Griffin-itis, but there are treatments such as /Bronchitis Buster/ for the coughing, /Speedy Sponge Powder/ for the warts, and /Relaxing Remedy/ for the scratching." He smiled cruelly. "So, I see your old school taught you very little, isn't that correct?"  
  
Aurora stayed silent. She lowered her head and studied the ground.  
  
Ron was the one that piped up in her defense. "But she only just got here," he said with a great deal of boldness.  
  
"Yeah, this is her first class, and maybe they had a different curriculum at her old school!" Harry said defensively.  
  
Aurora looked up at the two of them, blinking.  
  
Snape jerked his head toward them, silently threatening them with his glare. "I don't remember ever asking you two. Five points from Gryfindor . . . each," he added, savoring their shocked faces. Without another word, Snape whipped his cloak around as he walked swiftly to his desk, turned, and sat down. Most of the class took this as a sign that the action was over and returned to their potions. As Harry took his eyes off Snape, he noticed that Malfoy was sitting at the other end of the room, grinning widely.  
  
Harry and Ron turned to face a very astounded Aurora. She looked at both of them before saying, "You guys . . . you didn't have to . . . thanks . . ."  
  
Harry and Ron smiled. "No problem," they said.  
  
Though she did smile, they could both tell she still felt guilty about the ten points.  
  
The bell rang, and the students started to fill their flasks with their potions to give to Snape for grading. Harry, Ron and Aurora all looked down at their cauldron. Instead of being seaweed green, theirs was a bright powder blue.  
  
"Oh well, better than nothing," Harry said as he filled the flask with a sample and walked over to Snape's desk.  
  
Ron glanced at Aurora. She was staring at the potion, clearly ashamed.  
  
"It's not your fault," Ron said reassuringly, "without your help Harry and I would've messed it up even more."  
  
"Are you sure?" she asked, lifting her eyes.  
  
Harry had returned and joined in the conversation. "Of course we would've! Believe me, Ron's potion skills are horrible!"  
  
Ron smiled and said, "I wonder why . . . it might be the teacher . . ."  
  
They all laughed a little and Aurora brightened up.  
  
"Come on, let's get out of here, we don't want to spend more time in this classroom than necessary!" Ron urged the two of them. Both smiled and they were halfway out the door when -  
  
"Ms. Withertopp, may I have a word with you?"  
  
Aurora spun to face Snape, who was eyeing her.  
  
"Oh . . . yes, sir," she said hesitantly. She walked back in; Harry and Ron made no move to leave.  
  
"Alone," Snape added, glaring at Harry and Ron. They both retreated out the door and closed it behind them.  
  
"I really don't trust that guy," Ron said as they walked down the dark hallway. "There's no telling what he's up to. Maybe we should have eavesdropped on them."  
  
"No," Harry said immediately. "I know, I don't like Snape either, but Dumbledore picked him and he trusts him. Don't you trust Dumbledore's judgement?"  
  
Ron's answer was a pause and then, "You're starting to sound more and more like Hermione."  
  
Harry stopped in his tracks. He had let himself forget about her again. *How could I? After all she's done in her lifetime my thanks is ignorance? How stupid . . .*  
  
"Harry, look!" came a sharp whisper.  
  
Harry looked up at where Ron was pointing. There was something moving in the shadows on the floor near the wall, but he couldn't make out what it was. But something was there.  
  
*Could it be a snake?* Harry thought as they watched the creature moving. *What is it?*  
  
They both were frozen, watching whatever it was. The creature was slowly slinking away from them. It was coming into the light from the torch beyond. It was black, small, and . . .  
  
"Isn't that . . ." Ron whispered. His voice rose so that the creature could hear him. "Ramdeon? Is that you?"  
  
The cat turned abruptly around, as if not expecting anyone to be there, letting out a loud hiss. Harry and Ron jumped in surprise. It saw them, hissed again, and darted off. The faint pattering of its paws soon faded into the distance.  
  
"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron asked aloud as they composed themselves. "What's Ramdeon doing down here? And why did he act so strangly?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry said, "but there's definitely something weird going on."  
  
Ron nodded.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Through events such as this one, Harry and Ron got to know Aurora better. They stood up for her when she was picked on by a teacher (namely, Snape) and she soon found the courage to stick up for herself. Gradually, they became good friends as Aurora found that they were a group she could fit in with. In fact, the process was so gradual that Harry and Ron didn't realize what was happening. They regarded her as another friend, nothing more and nothing less. They asked for her help when they needed it (on homework, of course) and she relied on them to help her in similar ways.  
  
But in this newly blossoming friendship were two thorns; two deceiving lies threatened its existence.  
  
For one, through extremely improbable events (and perhaps some miracles), Aurora never got around to asking Harry what his last name was. She didn't know that he was Harry Potter, THE Harry Potter, the boy who lived. She didn't know that beneath those messy bangs lay a lightning shaped scar placed there by one of the two most powerful wizards ever; Lord Voldemort himself.  
  
However, Harry had no idea she didn't know. He thought that Aurora was just treating him like a normal person, and it comforted him that there was at least two people in the world (Ron and Aurora) who didn't judge him by his scar.  
  
However, this is what separated the two lies. Aurora also had a deep secret, a secret that would crush both Harry and Ron and, she was certain it would destroy their friendship. But the difference between this secret and the one that Harry carried was that she was aware of it. While Harry wasn't conscious of his secret's existence, she knew exactly what hers was. And she didn't want him to find out, ever.  
  
But secrets always come out, and nothing is left in hiding forever.  
  
With this new trio it was only a matter of time before the truth emerged and changed the world they had just begun to see as their own.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
::A/N: Hint about the future: the story of Hermione's death is coming very soon!:::  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Reviews (from earliest to latest)  
  
Signed by [TaioraCrazedGirl]: haha...the part that u added at the end...after the story is hilarious! ...but anyways, the story is great! though i hope u can make harry get together with hermione!! u have to!! or else i'll make ur life a living nightmare! haha...i'm just pulling ur leg(joking)! but it was good!! keep on writing, and get the next chapter out as soon as possible!  
  
Anonymous by [usha88]: Wow! I didn't know that my reviews were that interesting. I mean they ar so short. Heheh. You should be a little mroe quiet next time...lol! I am loud all the time too. :) I really liked this chapter. It was very interesting. Great little piece at the end ;)  
  
Anonymous by [Monet]: Yay!rnrnAn update! I can't wait til we find out why Hermione is a ghost and what will happen after she gets out of the darkness room. (I know thats not the real word, but I think I remember you rearranging the letters of the word darkness to create the name for the room that ghostly Hermione is being held in)rnrnWhile I wait for an update I do believe I will go back and reread the first few chapters. Its been quite awhile and though I remember the general plot I find that I have forgotten some of the details.rnrnOh, and I really can't wait to find out who Aurora is and why she seems to remind Harry of Hermione so. *grins*  
  
Anonymous from [Monet]: One of these days I swear you are going to get like 10 reviews from me all saying pretty much the same thing... but until then I will have to keep trying to review until something shows up! (ff.net doesn't seem to want you to see my reviews, though I'm not sure why - its not like I am saying bad things)rnrnAnyway, I loved chapters 13 and 14. What I really can't wait for though is to find out why Aurora reminds Harry of Hermione and to see what will happen when Hermione gets out of the nesskrad (I think I am remembering the right darkness permutation you used) room.rnrnSo yeah, til then I will reread chapters 1-12 so that I can remember specific details about your story. :-)  
  
Signed from [Sunny]: so, you wanna know what i think? well... it's great! i love the description of hermione "lay motionless in her beautiful cold death" I do hope harry realises quickly that Hermione is still in Hogwarts!rnCan't wait to read more  
  
Signed from [Sunny]: Hmm... i thought it would be better that Aurora asked Harry things since Harry is in grieve or is busy thinking how alike she and Hermione is... but never mind... I hope that Harry doesn't forget about Hermione. If not...  
  
Signed from [Sunny]: hey...rnWhere's Hermione? :( but anyways, can't wait to read more. Keep up the good work!  
  
Signed from [Sunshine Stargirl]: lol I love the behind the scenes!rnrnUPDATE SOON!  
  
Anonymous from [Hermione]: Hi It's Hermione (no not the one who's dead). I just stopped by to get ch.13+14 b/c you won't give me the disk. Keep writing! I'm trying to not give anything away, but it's hard. Let me know if you answer this review. (By the way, to all you readers who have absolutely no idea what any of that just ment, I'm the one random-chan calls her co-writer, but I really have done that much. All I do is correct and come up with ideas and... Well, maybe I do do something.) Commas are so annoying to type. See you soon!rnHermione (I just almost signed my real name by mistake. I have to get more used to using the Internet.)  
  
These are the reviews that didn't show up on the website. I believe the others are there. If they aren't, I'm soooooo sorry! 


	6. Chapter 16

::: From now on, the author's note is going to be at the end of the chapter. :::  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter 16: A Mysterious Vision  
  
"Yes! They finally brought back Quidditch!" Ron said excitedly.  
  
Harry, Ron and Aurora emerged from the Great Hall in the morning after an announcement from Dumbledore. He had declared Quidditch back in season after a mysterious banning. No one but Harry and Ron knew why the staff had taken extra precautions after Hermione's death, but no one was complaining now. In fact, the whole school was in a good mood, chattering about the first Quidditch match in a long time. The three of them walked and talked at the same time.  
  
Harry was also unusually happy considering his normally depressed mood. "I can't wait to play again!"  
  
"Hey, Aurora, did they have Quidditch at your old school?" Ron asked her.  
  
Seamus, who was appeared beside them, responded before Aurora could open her mouth. "Don't be stupid, Ron. Of course they have Quidditch at her old school!"  
  
"And what makes you so sure?" Ron spat at him.  
  
"There isn't a school that doesn't!"  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"There just isn't!"  
  
"Guys, knock it off. This is a good thing, we should be celebrating!" Harry said.  
  
"Exactly," Aurora agreed, "And to answer your question, yes, I used to watch games at my old school. But it was always so boring. There were only two teams, and one of them was always victorious. Completely predictable. I can't wait to see a /real/ match where the outcome isn't obvious!"  
  
"Did anyone hear which teams are playing?" Harry asked, anxious to play.  
  
"Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff," Seamus said in a disappointed tone. "It's really too bad. If they wanted to set the season off with a bang, they should've put Gryfindor and Slytherin up."  
  
Harry couldn't help feeling a twinge of disappointment himself because he wouldn't play. And Aurora wouldn't get to see him play.  
  
"Old rivalry," Ron added, looking at Aurora's questioning look.  
  
"Ah," she said, nodding her head in understanding. "I should've guessed."  
  
"By the way, what class do we have next?" Seamus asked them.  
  
"Defense Against the Dark Arts," the trio said.  
  
"Two good things in a row," Harry said with a smile.  
  
"Then what?" Ron questioned.  
  
No one answered for a long time. "Hang on, I have the schedule somewhere . . ." Aurora fumbled through her books. "Aha!" She said, pulling out a piece of parchment from between the pages of one. "We have . . . Divination."  
  
Ron and Seamus groaned and Harry's smile vanished.  
  
"Great, the best class there is," Ron said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "I can't wait to peer at swirling fogs trapped inside crystal balls and see what my future holds. Or rather, try to make stuff up without having Trewlawny breathing down my neck and telling me that I'm 'disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations ((Disclaimer: from the third Harry Potter book))'."  
  
"Do you have Divination at your old school?" Seamus asked Aurora. She shook her head. "Consider yourself extremely lucky," he told her.  
  
The four of them entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Harry, Ron and Aurora sat together in the front while Seamus went off to sit with Dean.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
As soon as he sat down, Harry heard a familiar voice coming from ahead. He looked up and saw Professor Lupin standing before him. He looked as old and tired as ever, but Harry knew that the specks of white hair on his otherwise brown head and the shadows under his eyes were deceiving, for Lupin was one of the best wizards Harry ever knew.  
  
Before Harry could react, Lupin quietly continued. "May I speak to you alone?"  
  
Harry's heart sank and dread welled up inside him. The only time a teacher requested privacy with Harry was when they wanted to know about . . .  
  
He couldn't bring himself to go on.  
  
Reluctantly, he got up from his seat as Lupin strode over beside his desk, turned, and beckoned Harry to join him. Harry slowly obeyed, ignoring the questioning and curious stares of Ron and Aurora.  
  
He reached Lupin's desk and braced himself.  
  
"Harry, I need to ask you a favor," Lupin told him.  
  
Harry felt his stomach twist sharply. *What do they want now? More details? Or something further . . .* He didn't want to relive her death. Once was enough for a lifetime.  
  
"What kind of favor?" Harry asked, though not sure if he wanted an answer. He looked away, trying to focus on a quill lying on Lupin's desk instead of reality.  
  
"I'd like your assistance in class."  
  
Harry's eyes whipped around to Lupin. At first, the sentence did not register in his mind. All he knew was this wasn't what he expected.  
  
"Assistance?" He repeated vaguely.  
  
"Yes. We are going to practice the Patronus Charm and I would like you to help the class learn it. Just to supervise and to help those that need it."  
  
Harry felt as though a heavy weight on his chest had lifted. His dread melted away and he breathed a huge sigh of relief. He suddenly noticed that his fists were clenched and relaxed them.  
  
"Yeah, sure," he replied with an escaping tone of relief, remembering the time Lupin himself had taught him the Patronus Charm.  
  
"Thank you," Lupin said as he sat in the chair behind his desk, which he had previously been hovering over.  
  
Harry remained standing, not sure whether to leave or not. Lupin seemed to read his thoughts. "You're excused," he informed Harry with a smile.  
  
Harry quickly returned to his seat between Ron and Aurora.  
  
"So?" Ron asked the moment Harry sat down. "What'd he want?"  
  
"Nothing," Harry said with a hidden joy that the statement was true.  
  
Ron stayed persistent. "What was it? Did he ask you about - "  
  
"No," Harry sharply interrupted before he could go further, "It was nothing."  
  
"But - "  
  
"Ron, I'm sure if Harry said it's nothing, then it's nothing," Aurora said.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and opened his textbook while Harry gave Aurora a brief, grateful smile. She smiled back.  
  
"Okay, let's begin," Lupin said loudly as he stood. "I know it's not my style to lecture you. I prefer to present you with a creature and give you a hands-on experience. But this time I can't. Not by my morals and not by law."  
  
Intrigued by his last sentence, the students listened.  
  
"Today, you're going to learn how to defend yourself from one of the worst dark creatures out there. They are so frightful that I had to get permission from Dumbledore to teach you about them. If they're on your side, consider yourself both lucky and well protected. But if they turn against you, and you aren't prepared, your fate will be the worst imaginable. A fate so terrible that you will beg for death, even a slow, painful one. These horrible creatures are . . ."  
  
Lupin paused for moment as he thoughtfully listened to the silence.  
  
"Dementors."  
  
The silence remained, broken only by the shudders of a few members of the class. Everyone was remembering the third year when dementors invaded the Hogwarts Express. All eyes were on Lupin. He smiled.  
  
"I would suggest that you take notes, for this is not only going to be on a test, but it could effect your very own life."  
  
There was fumbling, the rustle of parchment and the furious scratching of students taking notes. Lupin waited patiently as the scratching became faint and the last quill stilled. ((Disclaimer: I took the ideas for these last few paragraphs from a friend. Username: Fool. Story: Puppet. I suggest you check it out sometime ^-^))  
  
"First, I want to hear from you. What do you know about dementors? Tell me everything."  
  
He watched for any hesitant hands that may rise into the air. It was a few moments until the first brave student volunteered.  
  
"Yes, Neville?"  
  
"Um, they wear black cloaks," he said with a voice that showed his low self- confidence.  
  
"True, very true," Lupin said encouragingly. "Anyone else?"  
  
Now that someone had gone first, a few more students piped up.  
  
"You can't see their faces 'cause of their hoods."  
  
"They guard Azkaban."  
  
"They take rattling breaths."  
  
"They're bloody creepy."  
  
Everyone laughed at Ron's comment, and even Lupin smiled in amusement. Immediately afterward, however, Lupin became very serious looking and addressed the class.  
  
"You're all missing something very important. Can someone tell me the reason /why/ Dementors are so widely feared?"  
  
Harry volunteered since no one else did.  
  
"When they kiss someone, they suck out their soul," he said, all too familiar with the fact.  
  
"It's no wonder they don't have any girlfriends!" Ron exclaimed. All the students laughed again, but this time Lupin didn't.  
  
"It's no laughing matter," Lupin said sternly. "You should realize the weight of what Harry said."  
  
Guilty faces spread and Ron blushed.  
  
"Harry, could you repeat what you just said?"  
  
"When they kiss someone, they suck out their soul," Harry said, starting to feel like some sort of Muggle answering machine.  
  
Satisfied at the class' response, he continued. "How many of you have encountered a dementor in your lifetime?"  
  
Most of the students raised their hands, and Lupin shook his head.  
  
He mumbled something under his breath that wasn't audible. Then he raised his voice again.  
  
"I know most of you are referring to the time dementors boarded the Hogwarts Express in your third year." Lupin paused slightly before continuing. "Describe to me what it was like."  
  
More students raised their hands.  
  
"It suddenly got very cold."  
  
"I couldn't think of anything happy."  
  
"It was really scary." All the students nodded in agreement, and some took notes.  
  
"Yes, that's what it's like," Lupin said. "And now the question is, how do we defend ourselves from a dementor's terrifying attack?"  
  
"But, they won't attack us, will they?" Lavender asked, clearly alarmed. "Dementors work for the Ministry! They protect us!"  
  
"For the moment, yes," Lupin said without hesitation. The class was startled by his answer.  
  
"W-what do you mean, 'for the moment'?" Neville inquired, turning a little pale.  
  
"Oh, don't get the wrong idea. It is true that dementors guard us from the convicted criminals of the wizarding world - "  
  
Harry noted that Lupin had used the word 'convicted' instead of just 'criminals'.  
  
" - but I'm merely pointing out that dementors are also being, not our own creation. They can change their faith as easily as humans can. It's not impossible, nor improbable."  
  
The class remained silent, digesting what he had said.  
  
"Now, however, let's focus on our defense. Though I sincerely hope that none of you will need it at any point in your lives," he added. Harry thought he heard a soft sigh.  
  
"Which charm do we use against dementors? Aurora?"  
  
"The Patronus Charm," she said while lowering her hand.  
  
"Correct, five points to Gryfindor. What is the incantation for the Patronus Charm?"  
  
Harry raised his hand and answered when Lupin called on him. "/Expecto patronum/."  
  
"Correct, another five points to Gryfindor. We're going to practice the Patronus Charm soon, but first you need to know how it works. When you cast the spell, think of a very happy memory or thought. Then, if you did it correctly, a silver, misty animal shall emerge from your wand. What kind of animal it is depends directly on you. For example, if you're sneaky, mischievous, sometimes untrustworthy and like to be with others of your kind - "  
  
As Harry took notes (though he didn't need them), he heard a cough from Ron that sounded a lot like "Malfoy". Harry suppressed a chuckle.  
  
" - your animal might be a fox. Your animal acts as a shield between you and the dementor, and when the animal attacks it drives off the dementor. Got it?"  
  
Half the class nodded while the other half struggled to catch up on notes. Lupin waited once again until the scribbling stopped.  
  
"Okay, put down your quills and watch me demonstrate."  
  
There was a faint, tapping noise of quills as Lupin pulled out his wand and walked over to one side of the classroom. A still silence followed as Lupin got in position. He surveyed the class with his eyes.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
Every student nodded.  
  
Lupin took a breath and shouted, "/Expecto patronum/!"  
  
A silver wolf suddenly sprung from the tip of Lupin's wand. It was in mid- jump, yet landed on the ground without the slightest noise, its transparent head flipping around. The wolf didn't look old at all, but a fully-grown adult at the very peak of its life. It turned toward the class, searching. It blinking at them, and suddenly turned into a silver mist that floated and gradually disappeared.  
  
Lupin relaxed and turned to face the class.  
  
"The Patronus Charm works best when you're actually in danger, but with practice you'll get better. Harry's going to be helping me teach you, so wands out and start practicing!"  
  
Everyone got up, wand in hand, and soon the air was filled with fog and shouting. Harry left Ron and Aurora and walked around watching the others. To no one's surprise, Neville was having a hard time with the incantation.  
  
"Pat . . . Patrirum! No . . . Patty's Too Numb! No . . . "  
  
Harry walked over, taught Neville the right way to say it, and stayed with him until Neville could produce a faint mist with his wand. After giving him some last minute encouragement, Harry left and continued circling and helping anyone who was having trouble.  
  
Before they knew it, class was over and the room was completely full of silver fog. Lupin took out his wand, mumbled a spell, and the fog disappeared. "Okay, class is over!" he yelled over the incantations. "Your homework is to read chapters eleven through thirteen and answer the questions at the end of each chapter. Ten points to Gryfindor for Harry's help. Thank you, and good day!"  
  
Harry, Ron and Aurora gathered up their books and exited along with all the other students. As they began walking along the corridor toward Divination, they heard Lupin yell, "And enjoy the game tomorrow!"  
  
"Well, that was interesting," Aurora commented. Harry and Ron nodded.  
  
"That was the first time we learned about dementors in class," Harry said.  
  
"Yeah," said Ron quickly, "But I can't wait till the Quidditch match!"  
  
It was almost painfully obvious that Ron didn't want to talk about anything except the game.  
  
"It's a shame you won't be playing," Ron continued, looking at Harry.  
  
"You play?" asked Aurora.  
  
"Yes," answered Ron before Harry could respond. "He's a seeker."  
  
"Oh, really?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said plainly. He didn't like to brag.  
  
"That's great!" Aurora said enthusiastically.  
  
Harry just smiled back.  
  
"When is the match, anyway?" Aurora inquired.  
  
"Tomorrow morning, Saturday," Ron said. "We'll have to get up early."  
  
"And," Aurora said, "you'll have to do all your homework tonight instead of procrastinating until morning when you do it while munching on breakfast in the Great Hall."  
  
Ron made a look of disgust and said, "That was a long sentence." Harry and Aurora laughed. "Besides, I can do it on Sunday."  
  
"Speaking of homework, we didn't get any in Potions yesterday," Harry noticed.  
  
"You're right." Ron furrowed his eyebrows. "I bet he's gonna dump a load on us tonight so we won't be able to see the game."  
  
Harry shrugged.  
  
Their conversation continued until they reached the trapdoor to their class. They waited for the ladder to be released, and when it was, they went up, one after the other.  
  
The room was empty of people when they finally got up in it, except for Professor Trelawny who was too absorbed in whatever she was doing at her desk to notice them. They were obviously early. The trio walked over to one of the round, wooden tables and sat down. Before them were three crystal balls, each filled with a gray fog. Harry watched the fog swirl around as if being held captive, never still and always struggling to escape.  
  
Other students gradually filled the room and, when they were all present, Professor Trelawny stood.  
  
"We've done this before," she said softly, starting the lesson with her introduction. "Gaze into the crystal ball. Gaze with an open mind and listen closely as it whispers to you the secrets of the uncharted future and unknown world beyond."  
  
Harry saw Ron lean forward and put his ear to his crystal ball. His face twisted in concentration, he said, "Mine must be mute or shy."  
  
Harry and Aurora laughed, only to receive a piercing glare from Trelawny. Parvati and Lavender also shot them disapproving looks.  
  
"You may begin," Trelawny told the class. "But remember, matters of the crystal gazing are serious matters, and," she looked straight at Harry, Ron and Aurora, "I will not tolerate any foolishness."  
  
With that, the students picked up their balls and starting looking into them.  
  
"Every time I look into these balls I see the same thing," Ron whispered. "There's gonna be a fog tonight." [Sorry Ms. Rowling, I had to use that.]  
  
Aurora giggled, but broke off when Trelawny glanced in their direction.  
  
They spent the next period of time in silence, broken only by an occasional whisper or cough.  
  
Trelawny weaved her way around the tables, often peering over a student's shoulder and muttering things. She reached Harry, Ron and Aurora's table and, to their shock, pulled up a chair and sat down.  
  
"May I?" She asked, looking at Aurora with her hand outstretched.  
  
Aurora stared blankly back, and then suddenly grasped what she was asking. "Oh, sure," she said as she handed Trelawny her crystal ball. Trelawny took it and set it down in front of her. She leaned forward and stared into it, her hands hovering over it as though attempting to catch anything that might escape from the ball.  
  
"I see . . . nervousness and anxiety. Lots of it . . . but it is melting away. You were nervous about coming to Hogwarts, but now you're getting comfortable. I also see . . . three white flowers, fusing and blossoming into one. You have two good friends, and your friendship is blossoming."  
  
"Oh my god, she must be psychic," Ron muttered. Harry and Aurora smiled, both trying hard not to laugh.  
  
Trelawny continued as if she hadn't heard.  
  
"I also see . . . a broomstick . . . and a crowd cheering . . . You're excited about the upcoming Quidditch match. But . . . darkness is engulfing all of it . . . oh, my . . ."  
  
By this time everyone in the class was listening and watching them intensely.  
  
" . . . This is darkness like I've never seen before. It's as black as the night . . . no, darker than the night . . . it's hiding something, I can't see it . . ."  
  
She suddenly looked up at Aurora. "You're hiding something."  
  
Aurora looked confused.  
  
"Everyone has secrets," Ron said, "We're not open books."  
  
Trelawny glared at Ron for the second time that class. "No," she told him, "This is different."  
  
She lowered her head and kept watching.  
  
"I can't see anything . . . this secret is very deep. Goodness, I've never . . . wait! I see something . . ."  
  
She leaned in so close that her nose was only a few centimeters away from the ball.  
  
"I see . . . a tree, a massive tree, with many branches . . . it looks ancient . . . but one of the branches is on the ground . . . it's rotting . . . the other branches are reaching down for it, but they're too high up . . . leaves are falling, there's a flash of lightning in the distance . . ." She sighed in aggravation.  
  
"The darkness . . . I can't . . . wait, something's coming up . . . it's a girl in a garden . . . I can't see her face . . . it's a dead garden . . . she's holding something in her hands . . . they're flowers, white flowers . . . but they're becoming brown and wrinkled . . . they're dying, this is what the girl feared . . . now there are more people . . . two of them, yelling at her . . . she's crying . . . she's running away from them . . . but now she's in a dark chamber . . . I see a man . . . a tall man . . . she's really scared, huddled in a corner . . ." She gasped. " . . . He has a knife, the man has a knife, he's . . . oh my god - "  
  
CCCCRRRRRAAAAASSSSSSHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
One of the girls screamed and everyone jumped as the loud crash pierced the air like a bullet. Trelawny instantly stood and turned, knocking her chair over. Neville was standing, looking extremely pale and shaking, scattered glass littering the floor all around him.  
  
"NEVILLE!" shrieked Trelawny, her eyes whipping around the scene and stopping on the broken pieces of glass around him.  
  
"I - I - I'm s-sorry . . ." stuttered Neville. He reached down for the pieces.  
  
"NO!" Trelawny yelled, startling everyone again. Neville froze and rapidly straightened bolt upright, his hands raised at his sides. "NO! DON'T TOUCH IT!"  
  
She strided over, her arms out like wings, shooing everyone away from the glass. "Everyone stay away! Don't touch any of it!"  
  
Neville jumped from the center of the mess and all the students scooted a little away.  
  
Trelawny stood in the middle of the pieces, looking down, then glancing at the clock.  
  
"We're late! Okay, tonight's homework is to write a two-foot essay about what you saw in your crystal ball! Class dismissed! And keep away from the glass!"  
  
Every student picked up their bags (Ron grumbling about the essay), edged around the shards, and quickly darted down the ladder and out of sight. Harry, Ron and Aurora left together, and only when they started walking faster and broke away from the crowd did Harry glance at Aurora's face.  
  
Her eyes were wide open, staring ahead of her. Her mouth was also ajar, and she seemed to be gasping sharp breaths of air. It was if there was something ahead that frightened her. Her face was pale, and she was clutching her books tightly against her chest, as though in pain. She looked like she would faint any second.  
  
Harry became very worried. "Aurora? Are you okay?" He asked her.  
  
She didn't respond at all.  
  
Harry glanced at Ron. He was concerned too.  
  
"Aurora? What's wrong? You want to go to the Hospital Wing?"  
  
"No!" She said suddenly and took the two boys by surprise. "No, I'm fine, I'm okay . . ." Her voice faded.  
  
"Listen, don't worry about what Trelawny says," Ron told Aurora. "She's a phony."  
  
"Yeah, she keeps predicting my death every couple of weeks," Harry informed her.  
  
Aurora looked at him. "Really?"  
  
Harry nodded. Aurora relaxed a little, then sighed.  
  
"But . . ." She looked away. Harry and Ron looked at each other.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
NEW ADDITION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
Disbelief widened in Hermione's eyes as she stared at the wall before her. There was something on it; a dark pool that stained the stone. Slowly, reluctantly, she stepped forward toward it as curiosity got the best of her. She suddenly gasped when her fears were confirmed. She recognized it.  
  
Dried blood.  
  
Hermione traced the tracks with her eyes. They started at a large pool at the top that wound its way down to the floor which, to her disgust, was covered in dried blood, while all around the area droplets of blood were scattered.  
  
She reached out to touch the blood, to try to prove to herself that it wasn't real, but the instant her fingertips stroked the rough wall there was a brilliant, white flash.  
  
And there was darkness. She couldn't see anything.  
  
But she could hear something echoing.  
  
It was a shriek, a shriek that she recognized as her own, but broken off by a sickening crack and a splatter of blood. A man's heavy breathing, along with a boy's cry of disbelief could echoed in her mind.  
  
Then there was another blinding flash.  
  
Hermione found herself upon the cold floor, gasping and shaking with fear. Tears slid down her cheek as she remembered. Curling up into a tight ball in the middle of the bloody spot but still trembling, Hermione thought of only one thing.  
  
*This is it. This is where . . . *  
  
Her body made an uncomfortable lurch as she lay upon the same place she had died.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry lay wide awake in bed that night, staring at the blank ceiling. He looked over at Ron's bed and saw he was already fast asleep. Harry sighed, got up, and looked around for something to do. Deciding to read a book, he got out of bed with a creak and walked silently over to his trunk. Harry fumbled around and soon discovered something he didn't expect.  
  
It was a black, leather, zipped-up packet which read /Broomstick Servicing Kit/.  
  
A dark cloud descended over Harry and a wave of guilt washed over him as he remembered the kit. Hermione had given it to him for his thirteenth birthday, on the day he hadn't excepted anything. He ran his fingers over the silver lettering, as if trying to touch something beyond. It was a connection between them.  
  
Something else caught his eye. It was a small roll of parchment, a letter. He slowly and carefully put down the kit, as if it were a delicate glass item. Then, he picked up the letter and slowly unraveled it, reading it for the second time.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you're all right.  
  
I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going to send this to you - what if they'd opened it at customs? - but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (I've been getting it delivered; it's so good to keep up with what's going on in the wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he's learning loads. I'm really jealous - the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating.  
  
There's some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out. I hope it's not too long - it's two rolls of parchment more than Professor Bins asked for. Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first!  
  
Love from  
  
Hermione  
  
P.S. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really pleased. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it.  
  
Tears had coated Harry's eyes as he read the letter, making it very hard to read the end. When he finally finished, he sighed inwardly and blinked several times, sending the salty tears down his cheeks. He didn't bother to wipe them off and they kept flowing even after his eyes were relieved of their wet burden.  
  
He could almost hear Hermione in his head as he read. He could almost see her writing it, her neat handwriting poured over the parchment. But no more . . . and . . .  
  
*It's my fault. I could have stopped it. If it weren't for my stupidity, Hermione would be here right now! She would be alive and happy, but no, I had to go and act like an idiot! No, I /am/ a damn idiot! I never acted like a cared! I made friends with another girl, pretending that there wasn't anything wrong! I don't think about her anymore even though it's my own damn fault she's dead! And why do I like that Aurora person anyway? No one can replace her . . .*  
  
A voice in the back of his head answered.  
  
*Because you find something in Aurora that fills the hole caused by Hermione's death.*  
  
*But I can never replace her! How can I ever find someone so smart, caring, brave, helpful, trustworthy, loyal, honest, quick thinking, perfect . . .*  
  
*Look in your heart. You'll find the memories.*  
  
*Memories . . .*  
  
Harry's hands shook as he gripped the letter. "Memories. That's all. She could be here now, and it's my damn fault . . . it's my damn fault . . ."  
  
At that moment he wanted to run downstairs and throw the letter into the common room fireplace, to watch it shrivel up and burn . . .  
  
But something kept him from doing it.  
  
Trying to control his trembling hands, he put the letter on his bed and searched through his suitcase for a sweater. He finally found one, a black wool one that he never wore. He took it and spread it on the bed, then gingerly put the letter and the broomstick kit on top. Hands still trembling slightly, he folded his sweater on top of them. Picking up the bundle, he carefully put it in his trunk and closed it.  
  
Harry stared at the trunk.  
  
*I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry I acted like such an idiot. I'm sorry I forgot you. But . . .*  
  
"I promise," he whispered to the darkness, "I promise I will never forget you again. Ever."  
  
The image of Hermione still on his mind, Harry went back into his bed. He could taste the saltiness of his tears as he lay down and closed his eyes. Breathing heavily, Harry soon fell asleep knowing that with this new vow he would make a fresh start.  
  
But what he didn't know was that he wasn't the only one crying that night.  
  
In fact, a trio of three friends were all crying, though each in his or her own separate world.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
::: :( I feel so horrible. I killed Hermione. Now I'm starting to feel guilty. This isn't good . . . anyway, Hermione's death is coming /real/ soon. Okay, fine, you've convinced me, I'll say it. It's coming in the next chapter. I'm sorry about taking a while on this chapter. Contradictory to my earlier thoughts, I have even less time in the summer to write because I'm always going away or busy. But I promise you won't have to wait very long for chapter 17, since I'm so worked up about it I am probably gonna write it right after I post this. I just noticed I said "I promise" :( *sniff* Okay, enough blabbing, on to the reviews . . . :::  
  
[usha88]: Thanks, and you've gotten some clues in this chapter . . . now just put on your thinking cap and decipher the clues!  
  
[Monet]: Thanks, and wow! I'm throwing off Sherlock! I feel so accomplished! ^-^ I'm not going to say anything about Hermione and Aurora. I don't want to give anything away, you know. But here you go!  
  
[Arsenal]: Yes, Hermione is a ghost, she just dreamed the snake thing. I believe I wrote that somewhere . . . Thanks for reviewing! ^-^  
  
[Fool]: Like I explained to you, I'm trying to make people /not/ like Aurora, and I'm sooo happy it worked! No offense taken about the Harry/Hermione thing, but for right now I want to keep it as just a friend thing. I want the reader to make his or her own pairings. That's one of my goals.  
  
[TaioraCrazedGirl]: Okay, one more member for the club . . . *writes your name down on the list* You know, I'm getting the feeling people want Hermione back . . . ^-^ Lol! I explained this in one of the chapters, but I'll do it again: I don't think it would be fair if I declared this a Harry/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Draco/Hermione or whatever. I want to write my story as I visualize it, and I really want the reader to make his or her own pairings. So, you can look at it one way and say it's a Harry/Hermione fic, look at it another way and say it's a Ron/Hermione fic, or (if you try /real/ hard) you can say it's a Draco/Hermione fic. It doesn't matter to me, as long as you decide for yourself! Wow . . . I've never been strangled by a reviewer . . . *rubs neck* How exhilarating! Someone cares about the story so much they'd strangle the author! I'm honored! *bows* Anyway, I guess Aurora must've annoyed you in this chapter too, since she's replacing Hermione more and more! Thanks for the review! ^-^ 


	7. Chapter 17 WARNING: VIOLENCE

From the new material and information in the fifth Harry Potter book, I have realized that there is no way my story could have taken place. So, I will continue this story as if the fifth book never took place. Also, please disregard what I wrote before about the Patronus Charm having to do with "what kind of person you are". A good friend of mine has pointed out that the word "Patronus" comes from the Latin root "Patr-" meaning father, and since Harry's Patronus is a stag like his father, there is reason to believe that the Patronus is based upon the person's father. Though this is a convincing argument, it is still uncertain, so I guess it's another one of Harry Potter's great mysteries . . . at least until J.K. Rowling explains it. ((Thank you to Bakadesu for bringing this to my attention!))  
  
That is all.  
  
Oh yeah, and . . .  
  
I APOLOGIZE!! I did take a long time doing this chapter, but I swear, I NEVER slacked off. I finished it and then my co-writer had to come back from vacation (do I sense a pattern?) so she could revise and approve it. This is my longest and (in my opinion) best chapter yet, and I am fully confident that I gave it all I had. I mean, just the length proves it! It's 40 pages on Microsoft Word! Compare that to my earlier chapters of 4 pages . . . :P Anyway, I also added a little play at the end, so get comfortable because you're gonna be sitting there for a while!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter 17: Death Replayed ((I know, I'm HORRIBLE at titles))  
  
WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VIOLENCE.  
  
Harry suddenly opened his eyes and was met by darkness. As he inhaled he smelled damp dirt, as though the place he was in had not been cleaned for countless ages. Coldness surrounded his body, he crossed his arms, rubbing his sweater against his upper arms, and trying to generate some heat. He stared wide-eyed ahead while his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Confusion welled up inside as he asked himself where he was, what he was doing, and how did he get there. He couldn't find an answer. He listened, only to hear a high-pitched ring in his ear from the lack of noise. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the ringing, and started to make scuffling noises with his feet on the stone floor so he could listen to something. The longer he stood, the more fear replaced confusion. He looked around, but still, only darkness.  
  
"Ah, we have a visitor."  
  
Harry jumped at the high, almost hissing voice that broke the silence. He whipped his head around, but still could see nothing. His heart skipped a beat and his stomach twisted sharply. His scar prickled, and with a small gasp, he realized to whom the voice belonged.  
  
"What do you want?" Harry asked as he let out the breath of his gasp.  
  
"Don't you know?" The voice answered without hesitation.  
  
There was a scraping sound of metal against rock and then an orange glow to his right and when Harry looked he discovered it was a torch embedded in the wall. The room was illuminated a little and Harry could finally see. But there wasn't much to see at all. It was a small room made completely of stone, with a hard stone floor and stone bricks that made up the walls. The room gave Harry a funny feeling, like he had seen it before. There was no furniture whatsoever, but there was a figure, standing about six feet away by the torch and illuminated by the flickering light.  
  
It was an extremely skinny man with skin as white as freshly fallen snow, reminding Harry of a skeleton. He was watching Harry with blood red eyes, his thin lips curled into a cruel smile underneath his flat nose and snake- like slits for nostrils. He wore wrinkle-free black robes that looked new except for the dark stains which covered the sleeves and bottom. With a feeling of disgust, Harry recognized what the stains were. His arms were behind his back and Harry wondered for a moment what he was hiding.  
  
"Welcome," Voldemort said, his bright eyes still fixed on Harry, "I've been expecting you."  
  
Harry ignored the pain growing on his forehead and instead glared at the man. Fists clenched and focusing on Voldemort's eyes, he refused to show any fear toward him. Voldemort's smile widened to a grin and he laughed inwardly. The sound filled Harry's ears and his scar seared. Ignoring the burn, Harry continued to stare at Voldemort. Voldemort laughed again, higher, louder, and Harry's pain escalated. But still Harry denied Voldemort the pleasure of seeing him suffer.  
  
Harry forced the pain back and kept glaring defiantly at the murderer. But for a moment his defiance faltered and his gaze shifted from Voldemort's eyes to the torch nearby.  
  
"Tell me, Harry, does this room seem familiar to you? Do you recognize it?" Harry could tell Voldemort was amused by hiss reaction as Voldemort tilted his head slightly, pointing out their dim surroundings.  
  
Harry didn't bother to look around. Something inside told him that he had been in this room before. But he didn't recall anything.  
  
Voldemort made a clicking noise with his tongue. "Tsk, tsk. I should expect you to remember this place. Perhaps this will jog your memory." He started to raise his arm and Harry's hand immediately rushed inside his cloak and gripped his wand. Voldemort froze for a moment, grinning.  
  
"Now, now, that's not what I meant. You see . . ." Voldemort opened his clenched, white hand and spread out his long, bony fingers. "No wand."  
  
Harry's eyes darted from Voldemort's hand to his face.  
  
"Why should I trust you?" Harry replied, anger rising inside of him.  
  
Voldemort laughed again and Harry was hit with another round of sharp pain.  
  
"I'm a man of my word, Harry," Voldemort informed him, his arm at his side.  
  
"Your word means less than dirt," Harry said, his rage intensifying.  
  
Voldemort smiled. "Then you'll just have to trust me."  
  
Before Harry could say that trusting him would be the last thing he would do in the world, Voldemort started to raise his long arm again. Harry's fingers tightened their grip on his wand as Voldemort ever so slowly lifted his arm and pointed to the wall. "Look over there," he said with his index finger extended toward a point beneath the torch.  
  
His instinct told him not to look, that it was probably a trap. But as Harry stood there, a soft throbbing on his forehead, something told him that Voldemort was serious.  
  
*Why should I trust that bastard?* Harry asked himself, staring at Voldemort whose smile had disappeared. *He said at the very beginning that he wanted me dead. Why should I make it easy for him?*  
  
And yet he felt a nagging urge to take a quick glimpse. Harry took out his wand, held it ready, and glanced.  
  
There seemed to be nothing unusual at the spot Voldemort was pointing at. No Basilisk, no mark, nothing. Just a wall and a torch right above it. Convinced that a glance wasn't enough, he kept Voldemort in the corner of his eye as he looked closer. Then he saw something, a dark stain on the wall. Still watching Voldemort, he edged toward it. Then he looked back at the wall and was shocked.  
  
He recognized it. He recognized the pool at the top and the streak going downward. He recognized the trail of dripping that led down to the stone floor that, below his feet, was stained with a dark pool. Looking back up at the wall, he hesitantly reached out and touched the surface of a stain with his fingertips.  
  
He touched the dried blood.  
  
Hermione's blood.  
  
Hermione, who died in that same room, at exactly the same spot Harry was standing in.  
  
Harry remembered.  
  
Flooded with the memories, Harry clenched his hand into a fist. Fury, guilt, sadness . . . all the feelings he had felt then came back to him at that moment, and the wound that had started to heal in his heart was wrenched open again.  
  
Harry turned to face Voldemort, newfound fury grasping him. He shook with rage as he glared at the man, who was smiling, and pointed his wand at him.  
  
"You – "  
  
"Don't you think it's a bit rude for the guest to threaten the host?" Voldemort asked, his red eyes on Harry's wand.  
  
"I – Don't – Bloody – Care!" Harry spat, as if every word were dripping with poison.  
  
"You're disturbing your friend," Voldemort tilted his head toward a dark corner, and then said to it, "Come on out, say hello to Harry!"  
  
It was then that Harry noticed a soft sobbing in the background. He looked over to the corner. There was definitely something hiding.  
  
"My patience is wearing thin," Voldemort warned the creature. It still didn't move, but kept crying. Voldemort reached inside his cloak, turned toward the corner, raised his wand, and shouted, "/Crucio/!" Harry suddenly felt as if his skull had been smashed open. He winced and clapped his hand over his forehead, but still watched Voldemort's hand like a hawk.  
  
The creature let out a high-pitched scream. Harry jumped. It, too, sounded familiar. His eyes focused on Voldemort's wand as if it might turn toward him, Harry wondered what the hell the creature was.  
  
"Come!" Voldemort said in a commanding voice.  
  
There was movement, and the creature slowly stepped into the dim light. Harry could now tell it was a human . . . a girl . . . and then he gasped.  
  
The girl was coated in dried blood and tears were running down her caked cheeks. There were rips in her cloak, and her hair was a mess. She only looked at Harry for a fleeting moment, and then looked away, crying even harder. Harry's mouth hung open and his hand fell from his head.  
  
"Aurora?"  
  
When he spoke, she fell to her knees, smacked her hand over her mouth and coughed. Blood seeped through her fingers and down her arm.  
  
Harry tried to take deep breaths to calm himself, but still found that he was drawing short, ragged gasps. He stared at Aurora, and then looked back at Voldemort, who was watching her with his head down.  
  
"What – what did you do to her?" His voice was becoming shaky to his annoyance.  
  
Voldemort smiled corruptly but didn't look up.  
  
"Remember what I said the night your female Mudblood friend died?"  
  
Harry's eyes widened and his wand nearly fell out of his hand. "No . . ."  
  
Voldemort's smile turned into a wide grin.  
  
He quickly looked back at Aurora, still coughing and robes covered with a new coat of blood. "Aurora? AURORA!"  
  
He ran over and went down on his knees. He was already responsible for one death . . .  
  
He quickly dropped his wand into a shallow puddle of blood forming around her and planted one hand on each of her shoulders. "Aurora, what happened? Are you okay?"  
  
She shifted, trying to get away from his grip and shaking her head. Her eyes were shut tightly.  
  
"Must be something in the gene pool . . ." Harry heard Voldemort mutter audibly.  
  
Harry's head quickly whipped around. "What do you mean?" he demanded.  
  
Voldemort's grin widened. "You mean she never told you?"  
  
"Never told me what?" Harry asked, his impatience growing. Aurora was shaking her head more furiously, and he received a light shower of blood. Mastering the impulse to wince as the stench reached his nostrils and liquid slid down his arms, Harry glared at Voldemort, who was clearly pleased with himself, but said nothing.  
  
"Never . . . told . . . me . . . what?" Harry repeated slowly, turning away from Aurora who was still coughing up blood.  
  
"I think your friend should do the honors," He said. "Aurora?"  
  
Harry looked back at Aurora, who flinched when Voldemort had said her name and shook her head even more rapidly. Her head was hung and eyes were shut, blood now covering the floor beneath Harry and Aurora. Harry tried his best to ignore the sickening, metallic smell and the fact that the blood was now seeping into his robes. His knees were already soaked.  
  
"Don't keep him in suspense," Voldemort said with an evil smile.  
  
Aurora started rocking herself back and forth.  
  
"No . . ." Harry heard her whisper between gasps.  
  
Before Harry knew it, Voldemort appeared behind her. His protective instincts flaring, Harry got to his feet with soft splashes, but before he could do anything Voldemort took out his wand just as rapidly and shouted, "/Petrify/!"  
  
Harry froze, unable to move except for the blinking of his eyes. Voldemort was leaning toward Aurora's shuddering body. Harry fought with everything he had, but could not budge. His heart raced as the possibilities of what Voldemort would do flashed through his mind.  
  
Voldemort had grabbed a handful of Aurora's black hair, making her scream and Harry's head split, both from his flaring scar and from fear of what Voldemort was planning. Voldemort wrenched his hand back up, making Aurora's head snap backward and droplets of blood fly everywhere.  
  
"Go ahead, tell him. Tell him what you've been hiding all this time. Open your eyes and tell him."  
  
Voldemort watched Aurora closely, who was gripping his hand and struggling to get it off.  
  
"No," she said in a voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"I SAID TELL HIM!" Voldemort screamed at her while shaking her hair, making Harry's heart jump and Aurora let out another short scream.  
  
She opened her puffy eyes and looked at Harry. She winced, as though seeing him was hurting her.  
  
"I – I – I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered, her tears becoming wide rivers flowing down her pale face. She looked away and sobbed.  
  
"If you won't tell him now – " Voldemort warned, hissing at her and tightening his grip on her long hair. Her eyes immediately widened and it was then that Harry saw a shining knife in his other white hand.  
  
"TELL ME WHAT?!" Harry screamed in unmistakable fear as the long knife approached Aurora's exposed neck. "NOOOO!"  
  
Then it was pitch black and all he could hear was a high-pitched scream and laughter ringing in his ears along with the agonizing feeling that his head had been split open.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry sat bolt upright in bed, panting heavily with eyes wide open and sweat making his pajamas cling uncomfortably to his already stiff body.  
  
He looked around hurriedly and realized that he was in his dormitory, on his bed. He tried to take deep breaths to calm himself.  
  
He didn't even remember what his dream was. All he remembered was that it was frightening, he remembered being angry and sad at the same time, and one other thing that had stuck out in his mind.  
  
He remembered reaching out and touching Hermione's blood.  
  
Noticing that the sun was just starting to rise and that no one else was up, Harry decided to lay back down.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
*He's still not here.*  
  
Aurora looked up and down the faces of the bright, energetic students at the Gryfindor table in the Great Hall that morning and noticed again that Harry had still not shown up.  
  
Beginning to worry, she turned toward Ron, who was sitting at her side and hastily eating his eggs and bacon with less than perfect manners.  
  
"Hey Ron, do you know where Harry is?"  
  
Ron looked up from his food and raised one finger as if telling her to wait. He chewed and gulped down most of his mouthful, and with a bit of toast lodged between his teeth and his cheek, he spoke.  
  
"He said he wasn't feeling well. Didn't say much else. He's probably still in bed."  
  
Something about the way he said that made Aurora think there was more, as if a flash of understanding passed over his eyes and a bit of . . . guilt? Sympathy?  
  
But no sooner than she tried to figure out anything, Fred and George appeared behind Ron.  
  
"Come on little bro, we wanna get good seats," one of the twins said.  
  
"Alright, I'm coming . . ." Ron said as he stuffed his leftover eggs in his mouth and grabbed another piece of toast. Then he got up and followed his brothers out, waving goodbye to Aurora as he did, who smiled back.  
  
The smile immediately disappeared as she watched the Great Hall doors for Harry.  
  
Even after Dumbledore had risen and announced that the Quidditch game would begin soon and the room started to empty, Aurora saw no sign of him.  
  
She got up and exited the Great Hall with the crowd, but she didn't go outside. Instead, she turned and started toward the Gryfindor common room.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Deciding that sleep was now impossible, Harry got up and glanced outside the window. He could already see people gathering for the Quidditch game. Just last night he would have been extremely excited. But after that . . .  
  
Besides, Harry had promised Hermione he wouldn't forget her ever again.  
  
He kicked the covers off of himself, knowing that he needed time to think about everything. *I'll do it in the common room. No one's going to be there, they're all at the game.*  
  
After he had changed (he didn't even glance at what clothes he had chosen before putting them on), he started down the stairway and down to the Gryfindor common room.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Aurora stood in the common room debating in her head whether or not she should go up into the boy's dormitory. Of course it was wrong, and she felt extremely nervous at the thought, but somehow she knew that whatever happened to Harry must've been serious. She had felt it when Ron told her Harry wasn't feeling well.  
  
Looking up the stairs that lead to both the girl's and boy's dormitories, she settled upon waiting at that landing. Maybe he would come down later. If he didn't come down . . . well, that was a bridge she'd cross when she got to it.  
  
Aurora walked up the long staircase, her shoes making quiet knocking noises on the stone that echoed through the empty place. Every slow step she made was done so with much hesitation, as if her will was dragging her barely conscious body toward an unknown, secret area that she shouldn't be in. Very unlike Harry and Ron, she minded getting into trouble.  
  
Reaching the landing, she stood between the two separate staircases, facing toward the one leading to the boy's dormitory and waited again.  
  
A long period of time passed and she was about to gather up her courage and go upstairs herself when she heard another set of footsteps echoing from above.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry climbed down the stairs slowly, not feeling enough energy to exert himself. He felt as though he was in a daze, not completely aware of what was going on around him, as if in a dream, only barely able to control what he's doing. In this state he was not able to notice how quiet it was, nor did he hear when someone called out his name beside him. He just kept walking, a zombie focused only on getting to the common room.  
  
Finally reaching there and vaguely aware that no one was present, he went over to a chair and sat down. He stared at the fire with wide unblinking eyes, then suddenly jumped out of the chair which Hermione used to sit in and started pacing nervously.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
He jumped when his peaceful stupor was sharply interrupted. He spun around, saw Aurora, but did not relax.  
  
"What's wrong? Are you okay?"  
  
Something stirred in his mind . . . something that told him Aurora had something to do with . . .  
  
Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts, thinking there was no way Aurora could have been involved, but Aurora took it as an answer that said 'no, I'm not okay.'  
  
"Harry, what is it?" Her voice showed deep concern, but Harry really didn't care.  
  
"Nothing," he told her as if it settled the matter. He relaxed his muscles and went to sit back down in the nearest chair. Realizing that he was once again sitting in Hermione's chair, he jumped up, walked over to his favorite armchair, and sat down again. Resting each of his arms on the arms of the chair, he sat upright, staring at the fire, his back toward Aurora.  
  
"I know something's bothering you." He could hear her approaching the chair, and mentally wished that she would leave him alone. He didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the fire, red flickers that licked the wood hungrily, yet not eating up the wood from which they sprouted. The deep red reminded him of Voldemort, and for one second he thought he saw a pair of blood red eyes staring back at him. His hands clutched the chair as a wave of anger and guilt lit his insides like the fire before him, licking and burning and never satisfied. He felt like a dam, holding its bottled up burden of gallons of guilt and sadness inside in the form of a salty, red liquid, and the dam never opened its doors but was slowly being filled to the rim.  
  
"You can't keep living like this," a soft voice whispered.  
  
His annoyance toward her grew rapidly. A part of him wanted to vent his rage out on her, ask her what the bloody hell she knew about him and tell her straight out to leave him in peace. He took a broken breath, trying to control the fire within.  
  
"You don't know me," he said in a tone as calm as he could keep it.  
  
There was a silence for a moment, broken only by the crackle and snap of the fire. A roar of a crowd could be heard for a moment in the distance, then faded away.  
  
"True," the quiet voice said, "but I know what you're going through."  
  
His irritation roared, fueled by her words.  
  
"Quit talking as if you know everything. You know nothing. You don't have a clue as to what I'm going through," he spat, a frown growing and teeth starting to clench.  
  
"But I do know what it's like to lose a close friend," Aurora said in a loud voice.  
  
Harry said nothing, glancing at his knees. Part of him was fighting to keep control, while another part was thinking about what she said.  
  
"But you don't know what it's like to have been there," he said.  
  
Silence.  
  
"You didn't do it. You weren't the one with blood staining your hands, the deep stain that will never come out, no matter how many times you wash it. I'm stained for life." Harry lifted his hand and stared at the thin cracks and pale color, remembering the time it had been covered with Hermione's blood.  
  
"You're not a murderer!" Aurora suddenly exclaimed.  
  
Harry was taken by surprise, not expecting Aurora to suddenly become angry.  
  
"You didn't kill Hermione! I know that! And at least you have the satisfaction of knowing what happened to her!"  
  
Harry's eyes widened and he turned in his chair, peering over the side to where Aurora was standing. She stared back, as though surprised herself at her own outburst. She looked down.  
  
"I'm sor – "  
  
"What do you mean?" Harry interrupted, eager to know how Aurora knew Hermione.  
  
She looked up again, meeting his gaze, and sighed. She walked over to the Hermione's chair and sat down, not escaping the scrutiny of Harry's eyes. He had flinched when she had sat down, feeling like she was invading.  
  
"I was a close friend too," Aurora said, now her turn to stare at the fire. "All that I knew was one day she stopped answering my letters. I got worried and asked my parents, and my mom started crying," she sighed again, pausing. "My father told me that she was dead. I couldn't believe it. I kept asking how, but he refused to tell me anything else. Right now I don't even know if it was a brutal murder or if a wild animal trampled her. But I know that you two were best friends and you /couldn't/ kill her."  
  
Harry's eyes went from Aurora to his hand, his body still twisted toward where she was sitting. There was another cheer of a crowd that quickly died down into another awkward silence as both of them thought.  
  
"Was it . . . murder?" Aurora asked nervously, looking at Harry.  
  
He raised his eyes to hers and nodded.  
  
She looked away and gazed into the fire. He heard her take a deep breath and close her eyes. Harry tried to imagine how she felt at this moment . . . how it would feel if he knew Hermione was murdered but no one would tell him more. He looked away too.  
  
"Who would do such a thing?" Aurora whispered to herself.  
  
Harry looked at her face, noticing that she was on the verge of tears.  
  
He didn't expect it. He couldn't control it. But somehow, the dam suddenly burst.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry opened his eyes and was greeted by the vision of a gray, stone ceiling, looming over threateningly. He blinked, staring stupidly at it, and then raised his hand to his scar, which had suddenly started to throb. He could feel the dull pulse pushing in a rhythmic, almost musical pattern as he pressed his middle and index fingers upon it, trying to soothe the pain. He expanded his senses, and noticed that he was lying on a cold, hard floor, legs and arms sprawled out as if he had been dropped there. In the silent dark, his eyes widened, and he quickly pulled himself to a sitting position and looked around. It was very dark, lit only by a torch on his right, its orange glow reflecting upon the blank walls that were made up of stone bricks piled on top of each other.  
  
*Where am I? How did I get here?*  
  
He hastily got to his feet, quickly brushing off the dark layer of dust that clung to his clothes, and when he finished he looked up again and nearly jumped.  
  
The walls weren't the only things that the small, wavering light was illuminating.  
  
He saw a man, a tall one that was pale and thin, his arms crossed over his flat chest and leaning slightly against the wall. Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to the blood-red eyes of the man that watched him closely above the flat nose and slit-like nostrils. Looking like a cross between a human skeleton and a snake, the man smiled at Harry, an evil glint in his bright eyes. Harry furrowed his eyebrows as his hand fell from his head.  
  
*What is HE doing here?* Harry asked himself silently as he surveyed Voldemort, fists starting to clench as the memory of his dead parents came back to him.  
  
His scar suddenly pounded for a few seconds, but just as suddenly as it came, it left.  
  
"I'm here to pay you a little visit," Voldemort answered in his high- pitched voice as if he had heard Harry's thoughts.  
  
Sudden fear grasped Harry like a cold hand around his heart. Could Voldemort read his mind?  
  
Voldemort grinned, delighted by Harry's fright.  
  
"How did you - "  
  
He heard a quiet laugh as Voldemort's shape shifted, lifting his weight off the wall and cutting off Harry's demand. Voldemort's right arm rose toward his own face, one long, bony finger outstretched, and Harry's hand sneaked inside his robes as he grasped his wand. Voldemort paused for a moment and his eyes narrowed, as if calculating whether Harry's move was a threat. Apparently deciding not, his hand kept going toward his forehead and pressed against his white skin.  
  
Harry gasped as pain ensnared his body, twitching and pounding. His fingers left the wood of the wand and shot up toward his own forehead, which was now throbbing angrily. He fell to his knees, bent over and gasping, his hand clamped over his forehead.  
  
Suddenly, the pain stopped. Harry kept taking short ragged breaths as he looked up and saw that Voldemort had taken his hand off of his head. Voldemort grinned cruelly. Before Harry had a chance to react, he realized that Voldemort's wand was out and pointed straight at him.  
  
"I think that we should end this," Voldemort said as his grin widened, making him look like a maniac.  
  
From there everything happened too quickly.  
  
Just as Voldemort's mouth had opened and he had begun saying, "/Avada Kedavra/", there was a creak of a door from behind Harry and a shout of, "/Expelliarmus/!" Voldemort's wand flew out of his hand and across the room over Harry's head. Harry turned and saw Ron and Hermione, Hermione clutching Voldemort's wand triumphantly in her left hand as well as her own in her right. Ron was clutching a piece of parchment in his hand. He, too, had his wand out and pointed at Voldemort, but looked scared instead of confidant.  
  
"Ron? Hermione?" Harry asked aloud in disbelief.  
  
"D-d-don't m-move . . . you!" Ron said shakily at Voldemort. Voldemort's lips curled into a smile, which soon became roaring laughter. Harry winced as his scar burned at the noise, but struggled to his feet despite the pain. Ron, who was visibly shaking, dropped the parchment – the Marauder's Map – but otherwise didn't move while Hermione walked over and helped Harry up. Still in disbelief, he stared at his two friends while Voldemort's laughter continued.  
  
"Y . . . you think YOU can defeat ME?!" Voldemort managed to say as he kept laughing hysterically, eyes shut and nearly bent over.  
  
This was definitely not helping Ron, who gulped loudly.  
  
"No, let's be serious now," Voldemort said to the trio as he suppressed his laughter. "What makes you two think that a couple of kids can defeat the almighty Lord Voldemort?"  
  
Harry saw Ron flinch at his name.  
  
"You're outnumbered," Hermione informed him as she stepped forward and away from Harry, wand outstretched. "Three to one, and I've got your wand." She held Voldemort's wand in front of her. Harry took the opportunity to take out his own wand, so there were now four wands pointing at the murderer who was armed with only a smile.  
  
"True, but I am also the most powerful sorcerer that ever has been or ever will be," Voldemort said as he drew himself up to full height.  
  
"You're wrong," Hermione said firmly, though she did take a step backward. "Dumbledore is the greatest sorcerer - "  
  
"If that Muggle-loving man if so great, than how could it be that I am standing on /his/ school grounds and about to kill /his/ students?"  
  
For the first time in her life, Hermione didn't have an answer.  
  
"Now then, if there are no more objections, I will be taking my wand back," Voldemort said as he stepped forward toward Hermione, whose eyes widened. Her arm, which was holding the wand, stiffened in pure fright.  
  
"Don't come any closer," she warned him, though Harry could see she was only swallowing her fear for the moment.  
  
"Or what?" Voldemort said slowly, taking another step.  
  
Harry's mind told him to attack, to use his wand to keep Voldemort at bay, but his body refused to comply. His mouth wouldn't open. He was literally stiff with fright.  
  
It was Ron who suddenly jumped forward and yelled, "/Rictusempra/!"  
  
A beam of silver light shot out of Ron's wand toward Voldemort. Just as Voldemort's head turned, the light hit him in the stomach, making him double over and gasp.  
  
For a few seconds, there was silence, as everyone anxiously watched Voldemort's still figure. Then Harry heard. "Ah. A-ha. Ahahaha. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Voldemort continued laughing madly, his mouth wide open and eyes beginning to water.  
  
Hermione turned sharply toward Ron, who was staring at Voldemort as he fell to his knees in laughter. Hermione's back was facing Voldemort as she gaped at Ron.  
  
"A . . . Tickling . . . Charm," She said slowly with incredulity. "You . . . used . . . a . . . tickling . . . charm . . . on . . . him?!"  
  
"Hey, it was the first thing that came to my mind!" Ron said, trying to justify his action.  
  
"You couldn't think of anything better to do?!" Hermione exclaimed.  
  
As Ron's eyebrow furrowed and he opened his mouth to argue, Harry sighed and shouted over Voldemort's laughter, "THIS IS NO TIME FOR ONE OF YOUR FIGHTS!" His eyes darted toward Voldemort, and he took in a sharp breath as he realized that Voldemort had gotten to his feet and was making his way toward Hermione.  
  
"HERMIONE, MOVE!"  
  
But it was too late. Before either Ron or Hermione knew, Voldemort had snatched his wand from Hermione's grasp. "/Finite Incantatem/," he muttered between chuckles and stopped laughing immediately. The three jumped backward, not only from the suddenness of his silence but also from the terrifying, murderous look in his blood-red eyes. There was no doubting that he had had enough. Breathing heavily through clenched teeth, he straightened up and glared at them with pure fury. If looks could kill, every one of them would have died instantly.  
  
"I have come here with the intention of killing, and you treat this like a childish game." He said calmly, suppressing the anger that was surely rattling inside.  
  
No one replied.  
  
Without any warning, Voldemort whipped his wand toward Ron and yelled, "/Crucio/!"  
  
Ron's eyes widened and Hermione gasped.  
  
"Ron!"  
  
Harry's heart froze as Ron opened his mouth and let out a blood-curling scream that echoed through the small chamber. He fell to the floor and lay there on his side, writhing, twitching, and screaming the entire time. His screams were soon joined by those of Hermione, who fell to her knees beside him, yelling "oh my god" and trying to hold Ron still. Though she had definitely studied the Crucius Curse in school and on her own, Harry knew how terrifying it was to see it happen before your eyes. And he knew how terrifying it was to be under it. Ron's eyes were shut tightly and fists clenched his robes as he kept twitching and screaming and Hermione planted her hands on his shoulder and arm, leaning over desperately trying to steady him.  
  
Seconds after Ron had fallen, Harry had turned to Voldemort with his wand outstretched and a determination to make it stop. He carefully aimed at Voldemort's hand.  
  
"/Diffindo/!" Harry yelled.  
  
A ray of light hit Voldemort and a magical cut sliced into his hand as if with a knife. Voldemort cursed, almost dropping his wand as blood slowly dripped to the floor. He gripped his hand in an effort to stop the bleeding.  
  
The instant Voldemort's hand was cut and his concentration was broken, the screaming stopped, though a ring resounded in Harry's ear. He looked over and saw that both Ron and Hermione were breathing heavily, Ron blinking and trying to recover. Ron looked up and saw Hermione's hands and her body leaning over him, her hair nearly touching the floor beside him. There was a moment of silence filled with visible awkwardness.  
  
"Hermione?" He said in a questioning tone of voice.  
  
As if recovering herself, she suddenly lifted herself off and jerked her hands away. Harry tried very hard to suppress a chuckle. Though they did fight, Harry couldn't doubt their friendship.  
  
But this was no time to celebrate the joy of friendship, as Voldemort was standing there, fuming. It seemed as though his red eyes had become brighter and his skin whiter as he glared at Harry. He pointed his wand and shouted, "/Stupefy/!"  
  
A red jet of light shot toward Harry, but he easily dodged it and it bounced harmlessly off the wall behind him. Harry glanced to the side and saw that both Ron and Hermione had gotten up and were ready to attack again.  
  
"I've had enough of this game. I'll have to get rid of you one by one," Voldemort said in a tone that sent a chill down Harry's spine. "/Serpensortia/!"  
  
A large, black snake shot out of Voldemort's wand and landed with a thump on the floor. It raised itself, poised and hissing with its long thick fangs bared. "Attack the redhead," Voldemort whispered in a high hiss. The snake darted with amazing speed across the room, jolting around every spell that Ron and Hermione were launching at it.  
  
"Stop! Stop!" Harry hissed at the snake, but to Harry's dismay, it didn't stop. It flashed and appeared on Ron's leg. Harry went cold as Hermione screamed and Ron went rigid. Launching a spell at it now would risk hurting Ron, for the snake was faster than any of their spells. It started to curl up Ron's left arm, who yelped and tried to shake it off.  
  
"Bite him," Voldemort said quietly, egging it on.  
  
"NO! DON'T, STOP!" Harry yelled in a louder hiss. The snake continued up Ron's arm and reached his shoulder. Ron's eyes widened to their full extent as he became face to face with it, the snake's tongue flicking in and out and almost touching Ron's nose. It opened its mouth wide, fangs sharp and poised, ready to sink them into Ron's warm flesh. Its head flashed downward, and Hermione rushed forward -  
  
"I COMMAND YOU TO STOP!!!" Harry screamed desperately.  
  
The snake suddenly dropped to the floor and slithered out of sight, but meanwhile there was a rip of clothing and a scream of pain from Ron. He clapped his hand over his shoulder and swore as warm blood seeped through his fingers and down both his arms, staining his cloak. Hermione gasped, her hand over her mouth, wide eyes tracing the trails of blood down Ron's cloak. "Oh my god, here, let me see it," she said, her wand ready to heal him. Ron squinted his eyes and gritted his teeth as he slowly and reluctantly lifted his hand. Harry took in a sharp breath and Hermione gasped again as they saw the wound. It was a deep slash, about five centimeters deep Harry estimated, as if someone had used a knife to do it. Bleeding profusively and exposed pink flesh drenched in red blood, it looked like something out of a horror movie. Harry stared at it, not able to believe this had happened to Ron. But as Ron let out a short yelp and clutched his shoulder again, making the blood seep faster and more heavily, the realization slowly grasped him and the shock he felt turned into deep anger.  
  
He turned to face Voldemort with defiance and vengeance in his eyes and quickly whipped his wand in front of him threateningly. Voldemort was too busy enjoying Ron's pain to notice Harry's rage. It was as if Voldemort's eyes were feasting upon the blood that had begun to drip upon the floor, and for a moment Harry thought that this was why Voldemort's eyes were so red. Hermione had tried to perform several healing charms, but they weren't working.  
  
"Don't waste your time," Voldemort said to Hermione with a tone of complete satisfaction, ignoring the glare Harry was giving him. "Your petty little charms won't work on magic as strong as mine."  
  
"They are not petty charms!" Hermione answered as if she were talking to an annoying first year.  
  
"I suggest you not use that tone with me," he warned her. "I don't like being treated that way at all. And there are consequences."  
  
Harry realized what he meant just as Voldemort raised his wand and yelled, "/Impedimenta/!"  
  
"HERMIONE!"  
  
"GET OUT OF THE WAY!!" Ron screamed, but it seemed as if Hermione was too frightened as the jet of light raced toward her. Harry saw Ron jump forward and push Hermione away with his wounded shoulder. As she stumbled and fell, he swore and yelped in pain as his wound deepened from the impact. He stood in the way of the spell, eyebrows furrowed, teeth clenched and hand over his shoulder.  
  
"RON!"  
  
The light hit Ron in the stomach and he froze, paralyzed.  
  
"Ron, Ron, you can still breathe, right?" Hermione asked, panicking, as she scrambled to her feet. The only response she got was Ron blinking.  
  
Harry's rage immediately worsened, and he pointed his wand at Voldemort and yelled, "/Reducto/!"  
  
As if he could sense Harry's attack and before light even emerged from Harry's wand, Voldemort had already responded by muttering, "/Repello/." The two beams hit each other and each vanished.  
  
Harry heard Hermione say, "/Caecus/!"* from behind him. A beam of light shot past Harry at great speed, making his robes ruffle. Harry joined in the attack by shouting, "/Petrificus Totalus/!"  
  
Voldemort muttered, "/Contego/,"** while the two spells raced toward him. A transparent bubble blew up from the tip of his wand and engulfed him. Both spells hit the bubble at the same time with a sharp "zap" and disappeared. Voldemort's bubble dissolved instantly.  
  
"Still think you can defeat me?" Voldemort asked in an amused tone.  
  
"He's blocking all our spells! What do we do, Harry?" Hermione asked, panicking.  
  
Harry scanned Voldemort for any weaknesses, but as he was halfway through he heard him say, "/Avada Kedevra/!"  
  
"Dodge it!" Harry yelled as the light sped toward both of them. He jumped to the left while Hermione dived right. They both hit the ground as the spell flew past and hit the opposite wall.  
  
Harry looked up at Voldemort, first at his face and then at his wand. The idea struck him like lightning.  
  
"Hermione - "  
  
"Already on it," she said as she got up and pointed her wand at Voldemort's wand. "/Pepulliarmus/!" ***  
  
Harry saw Voldemort's wand shoot out of his hand and fly through the air and land a couple of feet away from them. Not realizing that he could easily use magic to retrieve it, he instinctively scrambled to his feet and raced to pick it up, and took a sharp breath when he saw Voldemort gaining on it. Harry tried to concentrate on the wand, as if it were a snitch, and he dove just as Voldemort did the same.  
  
"/Accio wand/!" Harry heard Hermione yell. The wand disappeared before Harry's eyes. Voldemort had dived in too closely, and Harry felt his weight push him over. Closing his eyes and bracing himself for the landing, he yelped as his ankle buckled underneath with a loud crack and pain jolted up his leg. Harry's breath was knocked out as Voldemort landed on top of him and his weight pressed against him. Harry looked up and saw Voldemort's face hovering dangerously close above him. Just as Harry opened his mouth to gasp for breath, Voldemort's hands shot up and gripped his neck with a steel grip that tightened by the second. Pain pounded upon Harry's forehead as well as upon his leg, but he had no breath whatsoever left to scream with.  
  
"HARRY!"  
  
"I've . . . had . . . enough . . . of . . . this . . ." Voldemort said through gritted teeth as Harry struggled to breathe. "I'll . . . kill . . . you . . . now . . ."  
  
Harry's mouth opened wider as he fought for breath, but Voldemort's hands did not loosen. Harry could feel his heart slowing down . . .  
  
"GET OFF OF HIM!!" Hermione screamed. She suddenly appeared in Harry's vision above both of them, her hands clenching Voldemort's cloak and trying to yank him off so she could use a spell on him. Voldemort did not respond but continued to choke Harry. Hermione kicked Voldemort repeatedly in the ribs, but he only winced once. Harry closed his eyes, his body yearning for air. He could almost feel his blood slowing down . . .  
  
"Stay . . . out . . . of . . . this . . . Mudblood . . ." Voldemort hissed without looking at her as another blow landed upon his head.  
  
"GET OFF!!!!!!" She screamed more furiously. Harry's pain worsened, feeling as if someone was sticking long, thick nails into him and hammering at his already throbbing head. He could definitely feel his pulse slowing now . . .  
  
"I SAID STAY OUT OF THIS!!!!!" Voldemort screamed with sudden fury as Harry had never seen before. Voldemort suddenly turned and grabbed Hermione. Harry gasped and wheezed, finally able to breathe.  
  
But fear immediately replaced relief when Harry saw Hermione and Voldemort. Voldemort put one hand on her forehead and one right below her neck and pushed her backward headfirst. Hermione shrieked, but her shriek was broken off and Harry screamed, fearing for Hermione, as Voldemort ran and rammed her into the wall right underneath the torch, her skull connecting first with a sickening crack. Blood suddenly spattered everywhere beneath Hermione's head. Her eyes widened and rolled to the back of her head as Voldemort released her, and stepped back breathing heavily. She slowly slid down the wall, leaving behind a wet bloody trail. Voldemort smiled and Harry let out a cry of disbelief as her head fell forward and revealed a bloody mess of red blood tangled with her golden hair. Blood slithered and dripped down her and a pool soon formed beneath where she sat.  
  
As if she had regained consciousness, she screamed and her body twitched and splashed in the blood, sending it flying everywhere. From her grasp Voldemort took his wand and pointed it back at her, grinning. Harry struggled to get to his feet but gasped and winced as another round of pain shot up his leg when he tried to put weight on his ankle. He opened his eyes and looked back up at both of them.  
  
"Shall we end this pain, little girl?" Voldemort said with a little laugh. Hermione twitched again and her head slowly lifted, tears streaking down her face and gasping as her eyes rolled dangerously. She steadied herself slowly and looked straight back at Voldemort with defiance in her eyes that was previously unknown to Harry. Voldemort bent down so his face was level with hers. Meanwhile, Harry fought to stand, struggling while his ankle protested. "What do you say about my power now?"  
  
Hermione took a deep breath and spat a mixture of saliva and blood in his face.  
  
Harry froze, knowing that that was a huge mistake.  
  
Voldemort's face screwed up in unmistakable anger. He quickly drew back his hand and slapped her across the cheek while swearing at her. Hermione let out a short groan. The pool beneath her was rapidly spreading.  
  
Voldemort whipped out his wand, pointed it between her eyes, and said, "You'll get what you deserve."  
  
Harry's eyes widened and he struggled to limp over, eyes on Voldemort's wand.  
  
"/Avada - /"  
  
"NO!!!"  
  
"/Kedevra/!"  
  
Harry flung himself on Voldemort, causing him to stumble, but it was too late. The light hit her and Hermione's body immediately went limp like a rag doll. Harry cried out and fell to his knees before her as Voldemort laughed.  
  
"NO! Hermione, you can't be dead, you just can't . . ." Harry lifted her head off of the ground, shocked to see her eyes a blank white. "You're not dead, you aren't, wake up! WAKE UP!" He screamed as he shook her, but she did not respond. Warm blood spilled onto his hands, but it still didn't sink in. "This must be a dream – a nightmare – I'm going to wake up soon – " He was engulfed with so many emotions; confusion, rage, grief, loneliness  
  
"This is not a dream, Harry," Voldemort said with complete satisfaction. "You killed her."  
  
Harry's head snapped back toward him. "I didn't do anything, you – "  
  
"You're very right Harry. You didn't do anything. You just stood there and stared while I was torturing her. Yes, I was the one who preformed the curse, but you didn't stop me." Voldemort smiled. "So, essentially, you were the one who failed to save her, and therefore you helped me kill her."  
  
Harry's eyes widened as Voldemort's words sunk in. He turned back to Hermione as the realization started to grasp him and tears welled up in his eyes.  
  
"No . . ."  
  
"Yes," Voldemort said. "Yes, it's all your fault, Harry. You could've stopped me but you didn't."  
  
Harry blinked and sent tears sliding down his cheeks.  
  
"This whole situation is giving me a wonderful idea," Voldemort said as he stepped to the wall on Harry's left and muttered a spell. Harry did nothing to stop him, still in shock of Hermione's death. The wall parted with heavy thunderous noises, revealing darkness on the other side. Voldemort stepped through and turned to face Harry's crouched form. The split wall began to reform before him. "Your death can wait. I want to see you suffer, to see you cornered and completely defeated. Therefore, when your foolish headmaster gets here, tell him that thanks to his stupidity all Hogwarts students, especially those close to Harry Potter, are in grave danger." The wall now only left a few centimeters. "Or is it thanks . . . to you?" The wall closed with a loud thud and Harry was left alone.  
  
"No . . . Hermione . . ." He whispered to himself. He looked down at his hand and saw trails of blood trickled down.  
  
Hands like those of a murderer.  
  
Tears now free-flowing, he whispered, "I'm sorry Hermione . . . it is my fault . . . and now . . ."  
  
He brought his body close to her lifeless corpse and hugged her, startled at the lack of warmth. She was very cold.  
  
*Cold and lifeless in death.*  
  
Harry's disbelief did not wear off, and he waited for her to hug back. But she didn't. Her blood soaking his clothes, Harry sat in the darkness, silently crying.  
  
Ron was also silently weeping, though frozen in place, tears streaking down his curved face and slowing down at the chin, where it dropped to the floor with a barely audible splat. The spell on him wore off and he fell on the spot where he lay for a few seconds before lifting his head and looking at Hermione. Not able to walk yet, he forced himself up on his hands and knees and slowly crawled toward her body, his shoulder making him jerk occasionally.  
  
"Hermione . . ." he whispered.  
  
Before he got there he collapsed, fainting in a heap of blood, tears, and misery.  
  
But the snake that was hiding in a corner grinned a fang-baring smile. With a feeling of satisfaction, it slithered off into the night.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ANOTHER PLAY FOR NO REASON:  
  
NOTE: If you don't know who Zelgadis is, you can easily ignore him. He's a character from the anime series Slayers, and here's a small quote to give you an idea of what he's like: "Well, this isn't going to last. Something bad's bound to happen – especially now that we're all relaxed." See? Pessimistic to the max, and a past to match.  
  
*As Harry, Hermione and Ron faced Voldemort, a wind suddenly picked up and Harry's cape billowed out dramatically behind him . . .*  
  
Hermione: Where is that wind coming from? We're in a chamber!  
  
???: Me.  
  
*Zelgadis (from Slayers) crashes through the wall.*  
  
Ron: Who's the stone man?  
  
Zelgadis: *glares at Ron but says nothing*  
  
Voldemort: *eyes widen* YOU!  
  
Zelgadis: Yes, REZO!!!  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione: Rezo? Who's Rezo?  
  
Zelgadis: *points at Voldemort* Rezo, you killed my family!  
  
Harry: *eyebrow raise* Me too!  
  
Zelgadis: Are you his grandson too?  
  
Harry: No . . .  
  
Ron: YOU'RE Voldemort's grandson?  
  
Zelgadis: I'm his grandson and great-grandson.  
  
Ron: But wait . . . that means . . . EEEWWWW!!  
  
Zelgadis: *sighs* Yep. But enough about that . . . I WILL KILL YOU REZO!! Voldemort/Rezo: I doubt it . . .  
  
*Another wall crashes in*  
  
Ron: NOW who is it???  
  
*The entire fellowship from The Lord of the Rings walk in*  
  
Everyone (each pointing at someone else): What's up with your costume?  
  
Frodo: *gasp* SAURON!  
  
Harry, Ron, Hermione: Sauron? Who's Sauron?  
  
LOTR cast: *points at Voldemort* SAURON!!  
  
Voldemort/Rezo/Sauron: I think I'll be taking my ring back . . .  
  
Harry: Ring? You're into jewelry?  
  
Ron: That's girly stuff . . . and who's the really tall guy?  
  
Legolas: I am an elf.  
  
Harry: He looks kinda big for a house elf . . .  
  
Legolas: I am a divine creature of the forest.  
  
Ron: Concieted, too . . .  
  
*Another wall crashes in*  
  
Everyone: NOW who is it???  
  
*Ringwraiths walk . . . er . . . ride in*  
  
Ron: Dementors?  
  
Harry: That's funny, I always go all weird when Dementors are around . . .  
  
Frodo: *gasp* RINGWRAITHS! *faints*  
  
Sam: He has a thing for black-cloaked monsters.  
  
Ron: So does Harry . . .  
  
Aragorn: *steps forward* I will defeat these Nazgul!  
  
Ron: Naz-ghoul? Aren't they ring-a-whatevers?  
  
Hermione: Ringwraiths, Ron. Nazgul in Elvish.  
  
Ron: How do you know??  
  
Hermione: *cough* Research!  
  
Harry: Anyways, why are they on thesrals?  
  
Ron: WHO DIED? *looks around*  
  
Hermione: They're HORSES!  
  
Harry: Wow, never seen one of THOSE before . . .  
  
*One of the Ringwraiths starts to hiss*  
  
Harry: Really?  
  
*Ringwraith continues to hiss*  
  
Harry: Oh, I see. So, what are you, anyway?  
  
*Ringwraith keeps hissing*  
  
Harry: That must suck.  
  
*Ringwraith hisses some more*  
  
Harry: Thanks, you too!  
  
Ron: What is going ON here???  
  
Harry: Oh, he . . . it . . . was just telling me about how they're creatures that are neither dead nor alive, and they live in a place called Middle Earth which is kinda big, so they use horses . . .  
  
Ron: What the hell?  
  
Ringwraith: *hisses*  
  
Harry: Yeah, Ron.  
  
Ron: ???  
  
Aragorn: What did it say, gifted boy?  
  
Harry: -no comment on 'gifted boy'- It told Ron to shut up.  
  
Aragorn: Oh, and I thought it said, "Give us path, she-elf."  
  
Legolas: Aragorn, that's only in the movie!  
  
Aragorn: Oh, yeah . . .  
  
Hermione: Why am I the only girl here?  
  
Gimli: My perception is that our creator made us in an age where male superiority was dominant, therefore making us the same way.  
  
Hermione: You guys REALLY need a Susan B. Anthony in your world . . .  
  
Legolas: What is this "so sun bee ant honey" you speak of?  
  
Hermione: Never mind.  
  
Harry: So . . . *looks at Voldemort* How –  
  
Voldemort/Rezo/Sauron: I have multiple personality disorder, OKAY?!  
  
Ron: I figured you were a wacko, but this is just ridiculous.  
  
Sam: It must come with the ring. *thinks of Gollum/Smeagol*  
  
Voldemort/Rezo/Sauron: And there is no way you can defeat me because with the power gained from all three roles I am literally invincible!  
  
Ron, Zelgadis: Damn it!  
  
*Ron and Zelgadis look up at each other and each smile*  
  
Zelgadis: You're okay, kid.  
  
Ron: You're okay, too.  
  
*Another wall crashes in, but somehow the ceiling magically stays up*  
  
Everyone: NOW WHO IS IT???????  
  
*Dumbledore walks in with a staff and a wand*  
  
Harry Potter cast: DUMBLEDORE! *looks at staff* What's with the stick?  
  
LOTR cast: GANDALF! *looks at wand* What's with the stick?  
  
Zelgadis: YOU! Um, though, I've never met you before . . .  
  
Dumbledore/Gandalf: Good evening everyone. I am here to promptly defeat Lord Voldemort and Lord Rezo and Lord Sauron.  
  
Voldemort/Rezo/Sauron: I doubt you will with my Ringwraiths/Dementors on horses, Gandalf! Er, Dumbledore! Whatever!  
  
*ANOTHER wall crashes in*  
  
Hermione: How can this happen? There's only four walls!  
  
Voldemort/Rezo/Sauron: Must be magic.  
  
*J.K. Rowling and JRR Tolkien and the creators of Slayers walks in*  
  
Rowling: So, how is everybody doing?  
  
Everyone: *stares* Who are you?  
  
Tolkien: Oh, we all created you.  
  
Ron: Sorry, but I don't believe in God . . .  
  
Hermione: Ron, J.K. Rowling IS the one that created the cast of Harry Potter! She is the writer that controls our lives!  
  
Voldemort/Rezo/Sauron: If that is so . . . *points at Harry* Kill him.  
  
Rowling: No.  
  
Voldemort/Rezo/Sauron: I SAID KILL HIM!  
  
Rowling: AND I SAID NO!!!!!!  
  
Voldemort/Rezo/Sauron: *cringes* Okay, you've made your point . . . *hides in fear*  
  
Rowling: Good!  
  
Ron: Miss Rowling . . .  
  
Rowling: Mrs. I'm married.  
  
Harry: No wonder there seemed to be a gap in my life . . . ((writer's block))  
  
Ron: MRS. ROWLING, if you really created me, could you make me have green spiked hair?  
  
Rowling: No.  
  
Ron: Damn.  
  
Aragorn: So, how did this girl know of our creation?  
  
Everyone: Yeah!  
  
Hermione: *coughs very loudly* RESEARCH!!! Have you never read the Harry Potter series or the Lord of the Rings series or the Slayers manga?!  
  
Harry: Wait, wait, wait, there's a SERIES named after me??  
  
Ron: Does that mean I'm a star? *smoothes hair*  
  
Sam: And what's the "Lord of the Rings" series about?  
  
Zelgadis: And what EXACTLY do you know about me?  
  
Hermione: *sigh* Yes, there is a series named after you, Harry. Written by J.K. Rowling herself, there are currently five books out though there's a promised seven. The Lord of the Rings series is a series of books written by J.R.R. Tolkien to document his thoughts, an all-powerful ring's journey through a mystical land called Middle Earth. And I know everything about you, Zelgadis. I know how your entire family betrayed you, and you went away and found them all slaughtered by your grandfather/great-grandfather Rezo, including your wife and your child . . .  
  
Zelgadis: SHUT THE DAMN HELL UP!!  
  
Hermione: Touchy, touchy . . .  
  
Rowling: Hermione's a lot smarter than I meant her to be.  
  
Hermione: *glares at J.K. Rowling* Though I was created by you, I am my own person!  
  
Legolas: If this "Tolkien" created me, does this mean . . . I'm not real?  
  
Tolkien: I thought I made you quicker than that.  
  
Legolas: But . . . it can't be!  
  
Tolkien: *sigh* Elves these days . . .  
  
Rowling: Tell me about it . . . *thinks of Dobby*  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
* This is real charm, but the incantations are unknown, so we based it off the Latin translation of "blind".  
  
** I had to make up the incantations for the Shield Charm. This time I used the Latin translation of "shield".  
  
*** Real spell, the Banishing Charm, but I based the incantation off of the Latin translation of "banish".  
  
::: Did I fool you with the dream? By the way, I hope you appreciate all the research I did and all the effort it took to write this chapter. Seriously, I /never/ slacked off, I took the ENTIRE time writing it. Yeah, I know I'm crazy. ^-^ Anyway, I've decided to do something about the fact that my updating schedule is very random ((Check the name! ^-^)) so, if you would like to receive email notices when I update, please email me at rollymc123@yahoo.com and I'll make sure to do it. You don't even need to tell me who you are (pen name), just that you want to receive update alerts. But rest assured, I won't use your email address for /anything/ else. I'm not the type of person who stalks others and stuff . . . if I did that, I wouldn't have time for my story, nor would I care about being a writer, so there's the proof you need! Thanks and I hope this idea helps! :::  
  
[TaioraCrazedGirl]: You know, that's the second time you've tried to kill me. I'm starting to think you don't like the fact that I killed Hermione . . . JK! (*cough* Rowling *cough*) ^-^ I'm sorry I took so long, but like I wrote above, I NEVER slacked off . . . and I'm offering an alert system if you're interested. But, anyway, thanks for reviewing, I hope this chapter didn't disappoint you!  
  
[Miya-chan]: To answer your questions, Hermione was turned into a ghost, and yes, Harry will most definitely see her again . . . eventually ^_~  
  
[usha88]: So, you think you figured it out? Wow! Hmm . . . I wish I could know your theory, out of curiosity. I gave out some clues in this chapter, did they go along with what you thought? Thank you for reviewing again and I hope I didn't disappoint you with this chapter! ^-^  
  
[Samilia]: Sorry, but I can't answer your question, because that would give a lot away! Anyways, I'm so glad you liked it . . . and I'm very flattered! Thanks for reviewing! ^-^  
  
[Chelsea]: Thank you so much! I'm so flattered! That'd good advice, I've talked to my co-writer about that and we'll watch out for what words we use from now on! To answer your question, I'm going to continue this story till Hermione finally comes out of the chamber. Thanks for reviewing and I hope I didn't disappoint you!  
  
[Sister 3 and Padfoot]: *NO!* ^-^ Hi! Listen, I've been working on this chapter so much you have no idea! The last time you reviewed I was still working on it! Hey, have you ever written a 37 page chapter? It's HARD! I haven't even thought about the next chapter! Well, actually, I have, but that's not the point. And though you may push and push me, this story is not just Harry/Hermione! And at heart, I'm still a true blue Ron/Hermione fan! Anyways, I haven't seen you for a while. We have to get together at some point. Bye! (and *NO!*) ^-^  
  
[Bakadesu]: You don't seem like a baka to me after that Patronus piece! Thank you for that, and I've added a little note at the top about it. Thanks for your encouragement, and I will bring Hermione back (*shudders at idea of hearing Kenshin's low voice in English*). I love that quote! Where'd you get it from? Or did you make it up? Ttyl! Thanks for reviewing! ^-^  
  
Let's see . . . that makes three threats to kill me, and two attempts to do it, both from someone I don't know. I think I'm getting good at this ^-^ 


	8. Chapter 18

Chapter 18  
  
Harry, Ron and Aurora stood in the middle of the high Quidditch stands, which were quickly being filled by excited students anxious to see the game. Harry was also excited and anxious, as he could almost feel the adrenaline pumping inside as he spent his last few minutes before it started with Ron and Aurora, talking. He was already dressed in his gold and red Quidditch robes and he held his broomstick steady beside him, ready to go. Both Ron and Aurora wore patriotic robes, proudly supporting the Gryfindor team as they went up against their rivals: the Slytherins. But Harry was not nervous, even as Slytherins cloaked in green and silver passed him with looks of disgust and hate. Quite the contrary, he was very happy to be able to get back in the game, even if it may be a dirty one because of the Slytherin's nearly unavoidable tricks. Indeed, Harry was ready for anything Malfoy and his crew would throw at him. He was rejoicing in the fact that he would soon be out on the grassy field, then in the crisp air, sailing through the sky with no boundaries.  
  
"You feeling alright, Harry? They're gonna be tricky." Ron asked with a smile on his face. Though he was asking this, Ron was undoubtedly confident that Harry was feeling pumped.  
  
"Never felt better," Harry said truthfully while a Slytherin fourth year pushed his way past them.  
  
"I'm definitely excited," Aurora said with a huge smile. "I can't wait to see you play. I've heard you're good."  
  
"Of course he's good! He's great!" Ron exclaimed, almost annoyed. "What did you think?"  
  
"Well, I've never /seen/ him play," Aurora informed him justifiably.  
  
Before Ron could answer another Slytherin pushed roughly past him, bumping Ron's left shoulder ferociously as he went. Harry's eyes widened slightly and Ron swore at the student, who only smirked and kept going. Harry had forgotten that his wound had never completely healed. His hand gripping his shoulder, Ron's eyes narrowed and glared at the back of the student.  
  
"Filthy bastard," Ron muttered under his breath.  
  
"Ron - " Aurora started. Harry froze. He had told Aurora about Hermione, but didn't talk to Ron about it, and he didn't want Ron to know that he had done so. Fearful of what she might say, he tried to interrupt but Aurora beat him to it.  
  
"Ron, did you get hurt?" She asked him in a voice that rung with sincerity. Harry stared at her. Her acting was impeccable. It was almost impossible to tell that she wasn't being truthful.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine," Ron said quickly. "But enough about me." He lowered his hand from his shoulder. "Harry, you'd better beat them."  
  
"I will," he said understandingly. Then he heard his name being called from far away. He looked down to the field and saw the new Quidditch captain, Angelina, waving at him. "It's time!" She yelled, "Get in the locker room!"  
  
Harry nodded, and turned again to his friends. "Wish me luck!"  
  
"Luck? Harry, you don't need luck!" Ron exclaimed. With his good arm he rotated Harry and urged him down the stands. As Harry kept going and reached the bottom, he heard Ron yell to him, "We're counting on you to kick some Slytherin butt!!"  
  
Harry smiled to himself. That statement suited Ron so well. He spun around momentarily and gave Ron a thumbs-up. Ron yelled, "Oh, yeah, and tell my sister good luck for me!"  
  
"I don't think she'll need it, either!" Harry replied as he turned and ran across the field.  
  
Most of the students were the usual; Fred and George were the Beaters, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were the Chasers, and Harry was (of course) the seeker. But the new addition on the team was the bright, redheaded younger sister of Ron Weasley - Ginny. The team was already in the locker room, dressed and ready to go with their broom in hand. Harry raced in and, once he was there, Angelina started her little speech.  
  
"Haven't we had enough of pep talks?" Fred asked aloud.  
  
"Yeah, I thought that when Oliver left we would spend more time playing and less time gabbing," George agreed.  
  
Angelina glared at them for a moment but said nothing.  
  
"Okay," she said louder than usual, as the noise the crowd was making was increasing, though muffled by the door, "Most of us here have gone up against the Slytherins before - except you, Ginny - and even if you haven't you should know that they'll do whatever it takes to win." She cast a glance to the side toward the green huddle far away from them. "Be on your guard at all times. Fred, George, you're gonna be working especially hard on the Bludgers, we'll whack them around really hard."  
  
"You mean the Slytherins, of course," they both said, grinning at their own joke. Angelina ignored them and continued.  
  
"Harry, I know your job is always to get the Snitch as quickly as possible, but this is especially true now. We don't want to give them any more time to have a chance to score than we need to. And you know to be careful around Malfoy."  
  
"Yes," Harry said as he remembered all the other times he had played against Malfoy.  
  
"Ginny, we're counting on you with the goals, good luck and don't let them intimidate you."  
  
Ginny nodded.  
  
"Alicia and Katie, you and I are going to be as defensive as possible. Once Harry gets the Snitch the game's ours, so our job is to help Ginny keep them from scoring as well as try to score a few of our own."  
  
Everyone noticed the usage of the words, 'when Harry gets the Snitch' instead of 'if Harry gets the Snitch'. However, Harry did not feel at all pressured. He just couldn't wait to start flying again.  
  
"Everyone clear?" She asked. Every person nodded. "Alright! So let's go out there and beat them!"  
  
Fred and George both said, "You mean let's go beat the - " ('Fred, George!' Angelina exclaimed, embarrassed by their language) " - out of them!"  
  
Harry couldn't help laughing at the blunt way the twins put their victory.  
  
"Let's go!" Angelina yelled encouragingly as she pulled both doors open Harry felt as though he was going to be knocked over by the full volume of the crowd as it burst through the opening. The team started out onto the field, making the Gryfindors and some from other houses cheer even louder. The light breeze ushered them along as they began to take their places on the field.  
  
"So, I see another Weasel has joined the crowd," Harry heard a familiar voice taunt. He turned in time to see Malfoy confronting Ginny. "How many of you are there?"  
  
Before Fred and George could do anything to Malfoy, Ginny gave them both a look that said, 'I can handle this'. Then she looked back at him with a smile. "It's Weasley, Draco, unless it's too hard for you to say."  
  
Malfoy's sneer faltered only for a moment, and the two players behind him tensed. But just as quickly he replied, "Obviously you're the one who's just too stupid to realize that that was an insult."  
  
"Quite the contrary, you're the one who's just too stupid to realize that you're wasting your time, because a few minutes listening to someone like you is clearly a few minutes wasted," Ginny replied.  
  
"How's your father doing?" Malfoy asked, ignoring what she was saying. "Is he still fiddling with cars, or has he moved on to toasters?"  
  
Fred and George both took an angry step forward and Harry furrowed his eyebrows.  
  
"How is /your/ father doing? Is he still using his money to get what skill can't, as you do?" Ginny asked cooly.  
  
Malfoy frowned and began forward. She stood her ground while Fred and George advanced to her side, holding their clubs dangerously. Before anything could happen, Flint caught Malfoy's shoulder and gave him a threatening look. Malfoy glared at Flint, then at Ginny.  
  
"I'll see you on the field," he spat.  
  
"It's funny how people tend to leave when they're losing a conversation," she said to his back.  
  
Malfoy spun around. "You - "  
  
"Draco, quit messing with the underclassmen and get over here!" One of the Slytherins yelled. Slowly, reluctantly, and with a harsh look at Ginny, he walked away from the Gryfindors.  
  
"Nope, she doesn't need any luck," Harry muttered under his breath as he watched Malfoy go. With that settled, Harry shifted his attention to the game, and the once blocked out noise struck him again. He could hear a bunch of them chanting, "Go! Go! Gryfindor!" He smiled. It definitely felt good when you had most of Hogwarts cheering you on, as none of the other houses wanted the Slytherins to take victory.  
  
Lee Jordan commenced his commentary as Harry went to take his place on the field along with the rest of both teams. Standing, ready, he waited as Madam Hooch walked to the middle of the field with the trunk. She put it down with great effort, and looked at the captains of both the teams. "Once again, I want a clean game!" She warned them. Angelina nodded to her as did Flint, but Harry could see one arm behind his back when he did. A few of the Slytherins snickered.  
  
Madam Hooch opened the trunk and carefully released the Bludgers and the Snitch, which immediately whizzed up and out of sight. Carefully, she picked up the Quaffle gingerly, as if it were a fragile object, and with the whistle firm between her lips she thrust it up into the air and blew a high, ringing screech. "And the game begins!" Lee Jordan confirmed.  
  
As soon as the whistle pierced the air, Harry kicked off the ground hard, rushing upward with his Quidditch robes rattling in the breeze as a thrill overtook his body and the longing desire for more drove him onward. How long he had waited for this, to sail through the open skies once again, circling the stands and eventually diving for the evasive Snitch. He inhaled the fresh air that whipped around him, for a moment almost forgetting everything.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* WARNING: I AM NOT SHAKESPEARE. ALL PARTS WITH A * ARE NOT MY CREATIONS. Thank you.  
  
Love is . . . a rose. No, no, that doesn't work. And the Muggle Studies teacher wanted us to define it without a metaphor anyway. a feeling? Well, that's obvious, I need to be more detailed.an emotion which some people are willing to sacrifice anything for? Hmm, that one seems good, I can easily prove that with many excerpts.Romeo and Juliet did both die at the end.*  
  
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows and swept her bangs out of the way as she tried to figure out how to word her Muggle Literature paper. Sitting in her favorite chair in the Gryffindor common room late at night with the fire creating just the right warmth, it was almost too comfortable to work in. But, with great discipline, she was able to remain focused.at least for the moment.  
  
Sighing in aggravation, she looked back at the criteria sheet, contemplating ideas in her head. However, her hard work would soon be disturbed by two familiar voices.  
  
"You're STILL working on your homework?!" One asked.  
  
Hermione looked up from her blank scroll at a very tired-looking Ron who had taken a seat nearby. She was very annoyed at his interruption, since she had savored the silence of the once empty room. "Yes, I am. Is there anything wrong with that?"  
  
"Hermione . . . it's two in the morning . . ." she heard Harry say in a sleepy voice that said his own slumber had been disturbed. She glanced at him, sitting in his own favorite chair, but dressed in his pajamas and his heavy eyes giving an impression that it wouldn't be unlikely that he might fall over asleep any second.  
  
"Is it? I didn't notice," Hermione said plainly.  
  
Harry's eyes fluttered open for one second, but then he closed them again, his eyelids being too heavy a burden. Either that or as if to say, 'What did I expect?'  
  
"There's this thing called sleep. You may have studied it once . . ." Ron teased.  
  
"I know what it is," she snapped. "And I'll go to sleep soon. Just give me a little longer- "  
  
"When is that paper due, anyway?" Ron inquired, breaking her off.  
  
She overcame the urge to scold him for being so rude. "Let me check . . . it's due in about three weeks."  
  
"Three . . . weeks . . ." Harry repeated, slowly becoming awake to his own displeasure. His eyes managed to stay open as he attempted a stare at Hermione. "You're . . . staying . . . up . . . for a . . . paper . . . that's due . . . in /three weeks/?"  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but before she did Ron answered for her. "What, is that new? I mean, only three weeks? Harry, how could she /possibly/ postpone it when it's due in only /three weeks/?"  
  
"Ron!" She snapped, but did not continue the pointless argument, though she would definitely win. She started back on her paper, but once again -  
  
"What's it on?" Ron asked her.  
  
Swallowing hard and forcing herself once again to not point out his immaturity, she said, "A paper based on Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet."  
  
Harry became unusually alert for a guy who had just a few minutes ago was half-asleep. "Shakespeare? That boring, Muggle stuff?"  
  
"It's not boring," she replied with a stiff air. "Shakespeare is possibly the best writer of all time. His works are famous worldwide and his poetic style of writing is not only original and deep but also beautiful."  
  
"Can anyone ever think otherwise?" Ron asked aloud. Suddenly he got up on his feet and rushed over to Harry, bent down on one knee. "Ah, Juliet, thine eyes are'st like dews upon the flower petals that doth sparkle in the rays of the eastern light!"  
  
Harry got to his feet, too, getting his part of the fun. "O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?"* He put one hand out as if holding the bottom of a dress and another flat hand above his eyes as if searching for Romeo.  
  
Hermione couldn't help but smile at this ridiculous version of Shakespeare.  
  
"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!"* Ron cried out.  
  
Harry batted his eyebrows. "Thou art flattering, Romeo." He made a failed attempt at a girl's giggle that made Hermione laugh out loud. "But what if our families caught us? I can't live 'ithout thee!"  
  
"Come!" Ron suddenly got up, holding out his hand to Harry. "Let us leave this prejudiced world and depart to the next . . . together!"  
  
Harry took Ron's hand but still seemed reluctant. Perhaps it was the fact that he was playing a woman currently in love with Ron, his best friend . . .  
  
"Let us allow our spirits to rise up beyond yonder clouds of white, beyond all humankind, up to a joyous world, side by side. But if thy soul won't rise with mine, than I shall 'wait your arrival at the gates of heaven, even if for an eternity and beyond, for without thee I would rather my skin be licked by the malicious flames shooting up from the bowels of Hell itself than enter great wonders alone."  
  
A silence followed his words, not of humor or awkwardness, but of awe. Harry and Hermione were both staring at Ron, who was glancing back and forth between them.  
  
"Ron, that was . . ." Hermione found herself at a loss for words. "That was . . . amazing!"  
  
Ron instantly blushed and whipped his hand out of Harry's grasp and turned away. Hermione watched him flush with embarrassment, still shocked. "How did you - "  
  
"My mom's a big fan of Shakespeare," Ron explained rather quickly, "She used to read it to us when we were kids. It just . . . stuck."  
  
There was again another awkward silence. Hermione had never known Ron could be so . . . . . . She couldn't even find a word for it! Or maybe it was just a word she'd never thought of describing Ron with, something other than selfish, immature, rude, and a slacker . . .  
  
"So you enjoyed it?" Harry asked, trying to break the eerie stillness.  
  
Ron took a sharp breath, as if he had been holding it for the whole time. "Not at the beginning. It was too complicated for me. But later on I got to really like it."  
  
Hermione joined Harry's effort at conversation. "And what about your brothers and sister?"  
  
This seemed to have a calming effect on Ron, seeing as he had stopped blushing and starting looking at them again. "Well, Charlie and Bill didn't care too much, Percy was of course obsessed with it, Ginny was too young to understand it, and . . ." He gave a little laugh that made everyone more comfortable. "And Fred and George had their own alternative ending which they always rehearsed, where Romeo would unexpectedly murder Juliet, kill everyone else, and take over the world!"  
  
This time, everyone laughed. It was so typical of the Weasley twins to come up with an ending like that.  
  
"What a way to spice up the plot!" Hermione choked.  
  
"'Twas in dire need of a twist!" Harry agreed in Shakespearean.  
  
The three friends continued their entertaining conversations until dawn slowly crept over the sills of the window and splashed across the forgotten roll of parchment.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Crumpled up like a discarded piece of trash, Hermione hugged her legs deep into her chest until she could not breathe, but she didn't care if she could, she told herself as she buried her face in her knees, eyes tightly shut in despair. She didn't care one bit.  
  
Hermione didn't know how long she had been in that horrible, dark room, but she did know one thing.  
  
She had attempted suicide.  
  
Twice.  
  
But failed miserably.  
  
How she prayed that she could die as the joyous memories of her friends haunted her dreams and filled her with deep sorrow that could not flow out of her body! She felt clammed up like a prisoner in a jail cell. In fact, she was a prisoner in this cell, bound by the walls into the rectangular shape she had grown to know so well, to her own dismay. But unlike the prisoners in Azkaban, she no longer hoped and lingered for the light outside that may one day splash across her body and warm her heart with freedom. She would never see either of her friends again, only in her dreams, dreams that turned into bittersweet nightmares when she woke up and tasted the darkness once again. Her hope was blown out like a candle, no longer burning within her soul and seemingly never to be re-lit. If this prisoner had the choice of staying in this cell any longer or dying by torture, she would embrace death once more and bear the pain of her fingernails ripped off, her eyes gouged out, her intestines jerked out of her body. She didn't care. Death was the only thing she looked forward to.  
  
No death awaited her here, she told herself. Only eternal pain.  
  
A low voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts.  
  
"Don't lose hope yet. Just hang on to life."  
  
For a moment Hermione's spirit soared. Someone with a voice she did not recognize had said this. It was her executioner. She was going to die at last!  
  
But when she lifted her head and her eyes scanned the room, there was no one, and her heart sank again.  
  
A strange pull gripped her. Some outside force was drawing her toward her right side. Glancing, she saw in the dim candlelight not more than five feet away the note that had been left there earlier. Slowly, laboriously, Hermione got up and reached out her tired hand to touch the note, making sure it was real. These miserable days, she had no certainty as to what were hallucinations and what weren't. Picking it up delicately, she retreated her hand and looked over the note, still in another language. But a few bits she could somehow understand, like last time. They said, "Don't lose hope yet. Just hang on to life."  
  
Unshed tears turned to fire in her eyes as she reflected upon this sentence. "Hope?!" She exclaimed suddenly, her grip becoming fierce and her hands shaking. "WHAT IS THERE TO HOPE FOR?!" She screamed, throwing down the note in fury. She wanted to punch the living daylights out of whoever wrote that. "WHAT LIFE IS THERE HERE? ETERNAL SUFFERING?"  
  
Hermione whipped around and crashed her body against the wall and a wave of shock jolted through her. She began to pound the stone with her fist. "WHY SHOULD I HOLD ON? WHAT CAN I HOLD ON TO?! THERE IS NOTHING HERE!! THEY AREN'T HERE!!!"  
  
Leaning her forehead upon the cold bricks, her screaming broke into uncontrollable dry sobs. Her fist opened up, pressed beside her head with such intensity as if to push the wall down. But instead she collapsed onto her knees, covering her face with her hands and crying without tears.  
  
"They aren't here . . ." Hermione's voice trailed off between gasps as she shook her head at her unknown executioner. "They aren't here . . . Please let me die . . . Please . . ."  
  
But her pleas were unheard.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry landed back on the ground heavily, sweat shining on his face, full of pride and joy, as he lifted the struggling snitch into the air and waved it around for all the Slytherins to see. The Gryffindors burst into a complete uproar, screaming and cheering with such a deafening volume that some covered their ears while continuing to shout. It gave Harry a warm feeling as he watched the Gryffindors flapping their colors above their heads as the Slytherins, faces twisted into scorn, threw down their flags with fury. Suddenly he was attacked and smothered by the entire team, nearly flattened on the ground until Angelina realized that he couldn't breathe and shouted at the members to get off of him. They did, but instead continued slapping him on the back and praising him, to which Harry could only grin and modestly blush.  
  
Finally, after the team believed that they had congratulated him enough (which, to Harry's relief, came before he could collapse), Harry broke away and stepped forward a few paces on the dry ground, his footsteps lost in the roar of the crowd. His eyes caught the sight of his two friends. As the crowd began to thin with students leaving the stadium, Harry grinned widely while Ron and Aurora rush forward onto the field. Ron was still jumping and waving a fist in the air while Aurora, her hair streaming backward, took a more sane approach of cheering.  
  
In an instant, his grin faltered.  
  
*No, it can't be . . .*  
  
He blinked again, and stared blankly at Aurora, who was still running toward him alongside Ron.  
  
*But why did I just see /her/?*  
  
If someone were to read Harry's thoughts at that moment, they would've been puzzled at why Harry was so concerned about seeing Aurora coming. But Harry didn't think twice about whom he saw. He had seen Hermione with her long, bushy hair trailing behind her.  
  
Harry shook his head furiously, trying to get the image out of his mind. *The cold air must've gotten to my head.*  
  
But it did not occur to Harry that it was probably the result of feeling guilty.  
  
Or was it?  
  
Managing to get a grip of himself, he noted that Ron hadn't done the same, considering that he had come upon him with such a force that Harry almost lost his footing.  
  
"WaytogoHarrythatwasawesomeyoushould'veseenMalfoy'sfacehe'sbloodyfurious!" Ron exclaimed in one hurried breath. Harry laughed as he visualized a scorning face twisted in anger and shame.  
  
Aurora immediately agreed with just as much excitement, for Malfoy had the potential to become a hated enemy in a short amount of time. She turned to Harry. "Oh my gosh, that was unbelievable, the best game I've ever seen in my entire life!" She rushed in and flung herself into a hug, which Harry smiled at and hugged her back.  
  
But suddenly he felt as though he had been kicked in the guts. As Harry stood there, embracing Aurora, something inside him felt terribly wrong. *Why do I feel like I shouldn't be doing this?* His hands fell and he felt as though he wanted to clasp her shoulders and thrust her away from him.  
  
Aurora apparently sensed his tension and drew back. "Is something wrong?" She asked, and for some reason Harry felt relieved that she had let go of him.  
  
"Nothing," he muttered as he forced his gaze upward.  
  
Aurora gave him a look of disbelief, but Ron didn't seem to notice as he slapped Harry on the back. Too harshly, he realized, as Harry choked and doubled over. "Hey, come on, let's go celebrate! I bet we can get one of my brothers to sneak into the kitchen and smuggle a couple bottles of butterbeer!"  
  
Harry smiled, the taste of butterbeer wetting his parched mouth.  
  
By this point the entire stadium was almost completely empty, and the trio were able to walk and laugh as if in private. But their fun was cut short as three luminous figures stepped forcefully in the middle of their path. Harry didn't have to look up to tell who they were.  
  
"So," Malfoy said in a falsely optimistic tone, "you've finally acquired some skill. I'm quite impressed actually."  
  
Harry returned Malfoy's sneer. "If my memory doesn't fail me, I believe this hasn't been the first time I've beaten you at Quidditch, Malfoy. Perhaps your own skill is lacking, or maybe it's just that mine is superior."  
  
Malfoy frowned, as did the two lumbering brutes behind him. "The only reason you consider yourself superior is because of that bloody scar, Potter," Malfoy spat, pointing at a mass of black hair which hid the famous scar.  
  
No one noticed, but Aurora's breathing suddenly quickened.  
  
Harry meanwhile kept his smile and said, "That's a lot coming from a boy who's only here because of his father's fortune."  
  
Malfoy ignored Harry's insult completely and his eyes fell upon Aurora with a grin. Something about it was unnerving, as though he knew a piece of information that the rest of them didn't. Aurora seemed to notice this, for she flinched under his gaze. "Well, Potter, I never expected this," he said slowly, letting each of his words sink in completely. "So soon after your Mudblood girlfriend dies you acquire a new one. Doesn't that make you something, Withertopp?" Aurora's eyes widened slightly.  
  
Harry felt his pulse sped up, angered at Malfoy's disgusting implications. But why did it feel more insulting than it did before? Ignoring the question and obeying his instincts, Harry lunged forward at Malfoy who stepped to the side as Crabbe and Goyle took their positions. Harry recovered, Ron was at his side and a fight seemed inevitable, until a sudden appearance by an old man stilled everyone.  
  
Dumbledore smiled warmly at each of them as if this were as lovely as a picnic in the summer. Harry and Ron stepped back from their positions, as did the opposing trio. "I trust nothing unpleasant is stirring here?" Dumbledore asked in his kind way that implied a firm expectation one wouldn't imagine emerged from such a soft voice. Harry, Ron, Crabbe and Goyle all shook their heads while Malfoy frowned. "Good, that's very good. Such a fine day, isn't it? One that should not be spoiled for anyone," he said absentmindedly, though his words ran a deeper meaning. No one spoke nor moved as his blue eyes shifted from person to person. Harry noticed that he spent a longer period of time examining Malfoy and Aurora, but thought nothing of it at the time.  
  
His glasses flickering in the light, Dumbledore concluded by saying, "Good day, everyone, and congratulations to both teams for a well played match." With his words lingering in the silent air, he turned and strode toward the castle.  
  
Malfoy turned back to Harry, Ron and Aurora and glared at each of them. While Ron and Harry returned it, Aurora seemed to shrink by it. Malfoy smiled at her and waved to his two brutes to follow him as he turned and walked back to Hogwarts.  
  
"That bastard was bloody lucky Dumbledore showed up," Ron muttered. "I'd have killed him. How dare he say that about you?" Ron turned to Aurora and concern grew on his face. Harry looked and saw that Aurora looked quite unnerved.  
  
"Hey, don't let what that bastard said get to you," Ron told her. She shook her head, and though Harry wasn't quite sure what it meant, he would find out later that day.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"What?! You didn't know?!" Harry exclaimed in the common room, which once again was empty save for himself and Aurora.  
  
Aurora shook her head furiously, and for the second time in his life Harry witnessed a very angry version of her.  
  
Harry blinked in disbelief. "No, no, no! There is NO way that the ENTIRE WORLD knows who I am and YOU don't! It's impossible!"  
  
"Well, what do you expect? You never introduced yourself to me!"  
  
"INTRODUCED MYSELF?!" Harry felt this was absolutely ridiculous. "DOES MY SCAR NOT INTRODUCE MYSELF?!"  
  
"I never saw it!" Aurora said, her anger growing with every word.  
  
"HOW COULD YOU NOT SEE A LIGHTNING-SHAPED SCAR ON MY FOREHEAD?!" He poked his scar with one finger, discovering a wad of hair.  
  
"IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOUR HAIR COVERED IT!" She screamed.  
  
Harry suddenly smiled and laughed dryly, which only further irritated her. "Now what's so funny?" She demanded.  
  
"Oh, nothing," he said with a deep tone of sarcasm, "It's just that I thought maybe you were the first person in the world to judge me by who I really am and not by my scar. I thought it wouldn't matter."  
  
"It does matter!" Aurora shouted at him.  
  
"Why?" He asked in a mixture of anger and desperation. "Why? Why does it matter? Am I any different to you now? Am I different because I have one damn scar?" He spread his arms out in exasperation.  
  
Aurora took a moment to answer. "Yes. Yes, it does," she said quietly.  
  
"How? How does it? Tell me. Tell me now!"  
  
"Because you lied." Aurora's eyes met his, missing their once shining sparkles.  
  
"I NEVER LIED!" Harry looked up at the ceiling and gripped his hair, eyes closed and trying to keep himself from exploding. "Besides . . ." he lowered his head and glared at her with a sudden hatred he never exposed, expected or even was aware of before. " . . .I'm not the only one here who's being dishonest."  
  
Her eyes narrowed suddenly. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Come on! I know you're hiding something," he accused, barely processing anything that came out of his mouth. Every word now seemed to come straight from his soul, blazing and pure. "You've been showing all the signs!"  
  
She seemed to falter for a second. "I don't know what the bloody hell you're talking about!" She informed him.  
  
"I doubt it!" He said.  
  
"HOW THE HELL WOULD YOU KNOW?!" She bellowed.  
  
By this point it was definitely a miracle that no one stirred in their sleep from all the noise of the confrontation.  
  
Harry could not answer her question, but somehow he knew it was true.  
  
Aurora lowered her head and closed her eyes, squinting tightly as if in pain. Then suddenly she looked up at him with defiance in her eyes.  
  
"So it's true . . ." Harry whispered. The words sunk into his mind. Aurora was hiding something.  
  
Her eyes glazed over as if ready to burst into tears, but oddly Harry held no place in his heart to pity such an act. It must've reflected upon his expression, for Aurora inhaled deeply, turned, and stormed away, partly with anger and partly with despair.  
  
"I'll find out what your secret is," Harry quietly vowed to himself. "I swear it."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry opened his eyes to total darkness and blinked, trying to adjust his eyes. As he inhaled, he smelled dirt. This place seemed familiar.  
  
His eyes slowly adjusted and, to his shock, there was something moving in the dark chamber he was in. Taking out his wand, he whispered, "Lumos," trying to gulp down his fear of what could be moving in the dark. But when the light beamed from the tip of his wand and his eyes beheld the sight before him, it gave him more of a shock than anything could have. His heart skipped a beat.  
  
Hermione!  
  
But something was wrong. She was curled on the stone floor, hugging her legs to her chest and burying her forehead on her knees. He heard her whispering under her breath, rocking back and forth in rhythm to her inaudible words. Her lids covered her eyes, and her bushy hair built behind her as if trying to form a wall around herself. Harry grew worried and took a step toward her. "Hermione?"  
  
She flinched at her name and stopped rocking, but continued whispering and refusing to look at him. Her muscles were tense, as if ready to spring away at a moment's notice.  
  
Harry stared at her. This couldn't be the Hermione he knew. He took a few more steps so that he stood right behind her. She still didn't move. One part of him wanted to reach down and hug her, comfort her, but another part was afraid to touch her.  
  
"Hermione? Don't you know who I am?" Harry asked, silently pleading for a response.  
  
To his delight, Hermione responded, but her movement was slow and Harry once again felt chilled. Hermione turned her head ever so slowly up at him, and as her eyes met his, he felt his own widen once again and he restrained himself from stepping backward in shock.  
  
Her eyes were pitch black.  
  
"H-H-Hermione?" He asked, shaking slightly as she glared at him.  
  
Her lips moved, as if in slow motion, to form a word that Harry would not forget for years to come. But in addition to her own, quiet voice, a louder voice that he felt he recognized could be heard that echoed her own.  
  
"Traitor," the voices muttered.  
  
Harry didn't breathe, only felt his heart grasped by the cold grip of panic. For a few moments he could but stare at her, slowly realizing what that word meant.  
  
*She does blame me!*  
  
But in that moment Harry heard gunshot noises and his vision blanked as he suddenly saw a blood-covered Aurora staring up at him. A scream caught in his throat, he stood rigid and tense as Hermione once again appeared before him.  
  
*No,* he thought to himself. *No. It isn't true. She's just hurting. I have to help her.*  
  
He reached out reluctantly toward her crouched figure and she suddenly shot herself upward. His hand whipped back to his side as he stepped backward in fear as if she were a wild animal, but all she did was sprint to the nearest corner where she crouched, grasping her bushy hair between her fingers. She had closing her eyes while pressing her body against the wall. The voices came again, intertwined and echoing.  
  
"No. No! You're not real!" Hermione cried out as if in pain.  
  
Harry felt a flicker of guilt and an overwhelming need to comfort her. Without even thinking he rushed over and crouched down in front of her, ignoring her screams at him. Staring unblinkingly at her closed eyelids, he waited patiently for them to open, and once they did he found fright embedded within. As their gaze met, she bit one of her fingers as if swallowing another scream. Hermione tried to wiggle away from him, but he reached out his surprisingly forceful hands and pinned her to the wall. Her skin was cold to the touch and a quiver met his touch. She emitted a blood- curling scream that seemed to come straight from her soul, piercing the air around them and making his skin crawl. How he was able to keep her there, pinned against the wall without retreating, Harry did not know. But he knew that a fire burned within him that refused to leave her alone.  
  
"I am real, Hermione," he said to her, trying to be heard over her constant screeches and attempts to wrench herself away, "I swear! How could you be able to see me if I wasn't? How could you feel my hands if I wasn't? How could you have known me all these years?"  
  
Hermione stopped screaming, head forward so that her skull nearly scraped his. Her pants and gasps were interchanging and Harry could tell she was trying to get a hold of herself. After a few seconds she lifted her head again, eyes wide and staring at Harry.  
  
"Harry?" Hermione muttered in disbelief, and Harry didn't answer in his relief that only Hermione's voice could be heard. Her arm twitched and then lifted, as if she was using all her strength and will to force it. Her hand reached out and Harry refused to allow himself to pull away. Slowly, reluctantly, she let her fingers graze a lock of his messy hair. After pausing she allowed her fingers to fall against his cheek, and Harry could not suppress a shiver and the cold touch. Her hand finally fell to her lap and she instead stared deeply into his emerald green eyes. He met her gaze steadily.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity Harry heard a quiet sob and he rolled himself onto his knees. As soon as he lifted his hands from her shoulders, Hermione burst into tears and threw herself against him. Harry wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly as she buried her face in his shoulder, crying and grasping his sweater as if her pain had been bottled up inside of her for a long time. He closed his eyes and breathed a long sigh, savoring this hug as one he thought he would never feel again since her death. He had his Hermione back.  
  
He did not notice that her hands had wandered up toward his neck, though he did feel her become rigid again and her sobbing slowed. Fearing that Hermione would transform back into the other person, the one he had found on the floor, he only hugged tighter. She didn't respond.  
  
"Hermione?" He asked, feeling panic build in him and his pulse quicken.  
  
Hermione head lifted so that her hair brushed his face, and her face turned toward him. Harry realized that her hands were on the base of his neck. She leaned in toward his ear and to his dismay Harry heard the two voices again.  
  
"If you aren't real, I won't let you ruin my life again," she whispered viciously.  
  
Harry eyes widened and his skin prickled as she suddenly grabbed his neck and threw him down on his back. Trying to gasp but finding no air, his mouth opened like a goldfish as he saw with horror Hermione's face above him, twisted in a rage and her eyes burning like fire. Her fingers crushed down on his throat and Hermione leaned her entire weight on it. Harry felt the frail bones running along his neck threatening to snap under her grasp. His body seemed to slow but he struggled, twitching and gripping her hands as tears pushed their way out of his eyes and streaked across his paling cheek, dropping on her hands and staining them with salt. Without even thinking, to his dismay, his fingers began to work as if alive themselves and tore at her hands, wrenching and clasping. Hermione gritted her teeth but would not forfeit as she kept her hands firmly around his neck. The lack of air was getting to him. He felt throbbing pain, then dizziness, then pain again. Darkness engulfed him and he fear of death drove him to fight harder as his leg kicked out, missing the target. In one last, desperate attempt to live, he forced his glazed eyes open and stared at Hermione, who looked as though she may cry as well, though her grip did not loosen. But as they gazed into each other's eyes, Harry saw no mercy in the deep depths and all hope left him. Darkness fell upon him again and he felt suddenly numb, before a piercing scream shot through him and he ceased to exist.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I'm SORRY! *sobs* Stupid, stupid, stupid high school . . . they seem to think I have no life outside of it!! Er . . . not like I do . . . but still, they shouldn't ASSUME that! Anyway, I've been soooo busy that I haven't updated in a LONG while. But just to clarify, I am dedicated to this story and I personally won't be able to rest nor be satisfied at all until I have written the very last chapter . . . nay, the last sentence!! So, that is my pledge. I think I've lost a lot of regular reviewers. Ah, they must have lives. Either that or they thought I stopped. Or my story just sucks now ^-^  
  
[intothesilence]: Wow, I'm flattered! ^-^ Thanks for reviewing and I'm sorry again this took so long!  
  
[surfer chic]: I'm glad you liked my "for no reason" story. And I'm sorry, but I'm evil, so I'm guessing we're only about . . . less than two thirds of the way done with this story. That's just an estimate, though, don't kill me! Please! I've had enough people kill me . . . but that's beside the point. Thanks for reviewing!!  
  
[Padfoot]: Okay, okay, you're padfoot, no sister whatsoever. ~_^ Yes, I have decided that there /can be/ Harry/Hermione, but . . . bleh, I'm too lazy to go into that speech now. It's 1:19 in the morning and I have school tomorrow. Thanks for pointing out my mistakes, I appreciate it!  
  
[TaioraCrazedGirl]: Well, there's a familiar name and question! Tee-hee! ^- ^ Muahahahahaha, I did kill Hermione . . . a while ago . . . and that won't be the end! There is much more despair to come! So hold on to your hat! . . . Oh, no, scratch that. That's such an old expression . . . anyway, thanks for being such a faithful reviewer all this time! 


	9. Chapter 19

Chapter 19  
  
"So you really think that Aurora has something to do with Hermione?" Ron asked after a long confiding from Harry. Harry nodded and looked down at the floor, his legs tucked underneath him and his hands fidgeting absentmindedly. They were the only ones awake, for Harry had been restless during the night and Ron had for some reason woken very early. They could hear the soft snores and breathing of their fellow students.  
  
"But I don't have any proof or even theories," Harry said after Dean Thomas snorted in his sleep. "It's just been haunting me. Like last night, with that dream I told you about." While saying this, he shivered slightly, remembering Hermione's cold fingers and the word that still echoed in his mind.  
  
'Traitor.'  
  
He tried to push it to the back of his mind, focusing instead on the sudden transformation from Hermione to Aurora, when he had looked down and seen Aurora covered in blood.  
  
Ron didn't reply to Harry's last comment. He instead looked toward his brown, leather trunk as if it would give him an answer.  
  
"And then there's that whole thing with Malfoy." Harry raised his gaze and saw Ron sitting cross-legged on the bed next to him, his eyes focused on the trunk, the first rays of dawn peeking through the small window and making the sheets shine. Harry shifted his position, his legs now dangling over the side of his bed. "Did you notice yesterday the way he was looking at her? It was as if /he/ knew something and /we/ don't."  
  
A long silence followed as each of the friends contemplated what that entailed. Harry lowered his head again, his fingers playing with the hem of his flannel shirt. After a few moments, suddenly, Ron sat up and stared at Harry as if a bolt of lightning had struck him. "Wait," he said in a hurry, "isn't Malfoy's father a Death Eater?"  
  
Harry's eyes widened at this prospect. He looked up sharply. "You don't think – "  
  
"It could be," Ron interrupted. "Listen, Voldemort's been after you since you were a baby, and recently he got really close to killing you but . . ." Ron paused for a moment and took a small breath. "But he killed Hermione instead. So, what better way to settle the score than to send Aurora to kill you herself." Harry did not notice it, but Ron had said Voldemort's name without flinching.  
  
Swallowing the first part of Ron's explanation with some difficulty, Harry finally shook his head. "I don't think so. As much as I hate Aurora right now, I hardly can imagine her being capable of murder."  
  
Ron looked out the window and chose his words slowly and carefully. "/She/ isn't. But /he/ is."  
  
The realization crept into Harry like an icy breeze and his skin crawled. It made sense, and yet Harry refused to believe it.  
  
"No, it can't be," Harry said, half to himself and half to Ron. "It's unthinkable!"  
  
"No, it isn't!" Ron exclaimed. "Don't you remember what he did to my sister? He possessed her! He's doing the same to Aurora!"  
  
The more Ron talked about it, the more Harry felt inclined to believe it. His memories of Ginny and the Chamber of Secrets could not be denied.  
  
"But if it's true, why doesn't my scar burn when I get near her?" Harry inquired after the thought crossed his mind.  
  
"Harry, no offense, but your scar hurting isn't the most reliable thing. We have no idea why it hurts, it just does at random times."  
  
Harry tensed, now starting to believe the entire accusation. Aurora was being possessed. It explained everything – his dreams, her secret and her abnormal behavior around him. ". . . So . . . what am I supposed to do now?"  
  
Ron's eyes narrowed. "I know one thing. Stay the hell away from her."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
After everyone had dressed and gone downstairs for breakfast, Harry and Ron followed them to the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table. It seemed like a normal day, filled with crunching and muttering and Neville blowing up something or another. However, a cloud of excitement hung over the Gryffindor table today. Everyone was talking excitedly and people were whispering about some rumor. Harry would not have paid attention if he hadn't heard someone say "Aurora" in their chattering. Fearing the worst, Harry and Ron both looked up sharply and found that she was sitting all by herself at one end of the table. Harry glared at her with his newfound wariness, and yet wanted to look away, fearing that she may turn around and bear those bright, red eyes he loathed.  
  
Ron was first to turn to Seamus and ask, "What's going on? What's everyone talking about?"  
  
Seamus swallowed his bacon with some difficulty, and then said, "It's Aurora."  
  
"What about her?" Harry quickly pressed. He prayed that nothing bad had happened, that she hadn't attacked anyone.  
  
Seamus leaned in a bit closer. "I don't know myself, but I heard it from Angelina. Apparently someone screamed last night and they found Aurora rocking on her bed and muttering, 'You're not real.' Pretty weird, if you ask me."  
  
Once Seamus had mentioned Aurora's rocking, Harry and Ron both looked at each other and thought of the dream. Harry furrowed his eyebrows. How could it be possible . . .? But it was, and it only further proved the connection between Voldemort and Harry, which had become Aurora and Harry!  
  
They didn't notice Seamus glancing between them, completely confused. "Do you two know something about it?"  
  
"No," Harry lied rapidly. "No, we don't."  
  
That claim didn't stop Seamus' curious look.  
  
"So, did anything else happen?" Ron asked, changing the subject.  
  
Seamus sunk back to his normal self. "That's all I heard. You can probably ask some girl for more information, though."  
  
Harry and Ron both took this into consideration and Ron searched the table for someone. Before Harry could ask for whom Ron was looking, Ron got up, grabbed his sleeve and pulled him off of the bench, dragging him along.  
  
"Ron, what – "  
  
"Hey, Ginny," Ron said to his sister as he stood behind her back and finally allowed Harry to stand on his own feet. Ginny turned around and smiled at both of them.  
  
"Hi Ron, Harry," she said.  
  
"Yeah, hi. Listen," Ron rushed through the greeting, "do you know anything about what happened last night?"  
  
Ginny's smile faded and she sighed, signaling she had probably been asked about this multiple times before. Assuming they had already heard the basic plot line, she told them, "Yes, I woke up with the scream, because her bed is only a few away from mine. It was . . . I don't know what time, but it was really dark outside, and so when I sat up I could barely see anything except for Angelina moving toward the bed. I got out of bed, pulled out my wand and lit it while walking toward the bed with Angelina. Then I saw that Aurora was rocking back and forth on the bed, hugging her legs, and muttering, 'You're not real.'" Ginny closed her eyes for a moment and continued. "So Angelina and I both tried to snap her out of it, but when we attempted it she just looked up at us and whimpered. She suddenly seemed to become herself again and stared blankly at us, then got completely embarrassed. We tried to ask her what was wrong, but of course everyone was staring now and she refused to say anything. That was all that happened. But now everyone's avoiding her."  
  
Harry's eyes were gradually widening throughout Ginny's story, and a single thought crossed his mind. *She had /my/ dream.*  
  
There was a pause before Harry spoke, and when he did he was slow and precise. "What exactly do you mean by 'becoming herself again'?"  
  
Ginny shook her head. "I don't really know, it just felt as though she wasn't . . . herself."  
  
Ron and Harry both looked at each other. Ron turned around, muttered, "Thanks, sis," and grabbed Harry again, this time taking him toward the exit.  
  
"Ron!" Harry tried to twist his body to face him while keeping his balance. "Ron, I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own two feet!"  
  
Ron did not answer until they were out of the room, at which point he let go of Harry. As soon as he did, Harry turned and stared at Ron.  
  
"What the bloody hell was that for?" Harry asked, completely confused.  
  
"Now we know," Ron voiced his thoughts aloud, ignoring the question. "We're positive. There's no way it can't be."  
  
Though still puzzled about the whole dragging scene, Harry did not answer immediately. At a loss for words, he shrugged.  
  
"This is worth more than a shrug, Harry," Ron said, almost with a glare.  
  
Harry stared at Ron. This wasn't normal at all. "Ron, what's wrong with you?"  
  
Ron frowned and looked away. He spoke with firmness and rage that Harry had never heard from him before, and his hands curled into fists. "That bloody bastard killed one of my best friends, and I'll be damned if I loose the other."  
  
Harry blinked at Ron, who was still looking away. There was a silence as Ron's words sunk in. When their eyes did finally meet again, Harry saw a flame burning in his eyes.  
  
"Ron," Harry said quietly, "it's you who's in danger. After he killed Herm – her – he told me that he would make me suffer, kill all of my friends one by one and make me live with the misery of knowing I had the chance to prevent it. That means . . . he's going to try to kill you."  
  
Ron did not speak, and Harry thought he was in shock and hadn't heard these words before. But Harry was proven wrong when Ron's fists vibrated and his frown etched deeper in his face. His words were faint and barely audible, as though thoughts themselves.  
  
"Good."  
  
Harry's eyes widened to their fullest extent and his mouth opened like a goldfish, no voice coming out. Ron was still staring at Harry, and Harry could tell just by looking at his face that he wasn't kidding.  
  
Before Harry could find his voice, a bunch of students poured out of the Hall, each going their own direction like a river. An oblivious Harry was bumped into several times as though he was in a daze. Correction, he /was/ in a daze. Ron had just blown him away. Without waiting a long time, standing there in the middle of the crowd, Harry felt himself being grabbed and pulled away. He looked up at the redhead and smiled to himself.  
  
Now he understood the dragging, and he knew he couldn't have asked for a better friend.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"When you grind the roots, you must make sure that you do so with the 2 ounce mallet and not any other, because then you'll either end up with dust or chunks in your potion."  
  
Harry managed to catch and write down that bit of information before his thoughts led elsewhere again. Sitting in the middle of Potions with Ron by his side like always, Harry just wanted to have time to think about it all; his dream, whether or not Hermione blamed him, the new threat of Aurora, and Ron's vow. It was all too much in one day . . . not even that, for only three hours had passed since he woke up. Gazing at his nearly blank scroll, Harry kept his eyes from glancing to the side of the room, since he knew that Aurora would be sitting there. And the last thing he wanted to see was her.  
  
"Mr. Potter!" Harry was snapped out of his thoughts by that familiar, dreadful voice. He looked up to see Snape advancing on him. He nearly rolled his eyes, not caring the least bit about Snape at the moment. Snape stopped before his desk with a face of scorn while Harry returned with very little care.  
  
"Were you daydreaming again, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked. Harry wanted to ask if he was stupid.  
  
"No, sir, I wasn't," Harry lied. He was in enough trouble already, he realized, and it wouldn't help to add detention onto his list of worries.  
  
"Then, tell me, what kind of mallet should you grind the roots with?"  
  
Harry sighed, half with relief and half with agitation. "A two ounce mallet, because with an alternative you either end up with dust or chunks in your potion."  
  
Snape's face twisted. "True, but perhaps you did not take the time to write it down."  
  
"Yes, I did," Harry said plainly.  
  
"Then let me see your paper," Snape said slowly and critically. Sighing again, softer so that Snape wouldn't notice, he handed his scroll to Snape, who took it and read through. If possible, his face became more twisted and he nearly threw down the notes. He shook one bony finger at Harry. "Don't let me catch you looking like that again."  
  
Finally satisfied, Snape moved on and Harry smiled, discovering that paying attention in Potions can actually be beneficial.  
  
Just before he was about to settle into his thoughts again, Harry heard Snape's voice. "Miss Withertopp," the voice declared with satisfaction. Despite himself, Harry turned in his seat to see Snape bent over Aurora's desk with a wide smile perched on his face. Aurora was looking down, studying her desk and avoiding his gaze. The Gryffindors seemed uneasy.  
  
"I couldn't help but wonder, Miss Withertopp, why you are sitting all the way over here," he prodded her desk, "when your so-called friends are over there." Snape wagged his finger in the direction of Harry and Ron.  
  
At that moment Harry's blood boiled, and he didn't know whom he hated more: Aurora or Snape.  
  
Aurora didn't answer Snape's question.  
  
"And, there also seems to be more Slytherins over here than your beloved Gryffindors. Aren't you feeling a little out of place?"  
  
It occurred to Harry that of course Aurora would start sitting with the Slytherins. This was Voldemort they were dealing with, the Voldemort who used to be a Slytherin himself.  
  
Aurora shrugged, still not looking up. A few of the boys behind her chuckled and she shifted in her chair uncomfortably.  
  
Snape's smile was fading and his patience was wearing thin. There was no fun if the student did not protest or at least answer the question.  
  
"Perhaps you've had a change of heart," Snape said with a smirk, lightly pushing himself back to an upright position. "I hope you find your new company to be satisfying."  
  
Harry didn't even have to guess what that meant, judging on Aurora's sudden stiffness as she crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders while hungry looks were shot her way from some of the boys. If it were any other person, any other girl, Harry would feel the overwhelming urge to punch a few of them for their sickly intentions. But this was no ordinary girl. This one housed his enemy, Voldemort, the murderer who killed his parents and Hermione. With that set in his mind, he tore his gaze away from the scene, leaving Aurora in the hands of the Slytherins. After all, it was where she belonged.  
  
The rest of Potions class passed agonizingly slowly, and when it was finally over Harry was happy to stuff his scrolls and books into his bag and sling it over his shoulder, ready to go. Waiting for Ron while the other students rushed out, he tapped his foot and looked absentmindedly over to where Aurora was sitting. She wasn't there, and Harry suddenly realized the implications of her departure, and he recalled the greedy eyes that had devoured her during the period. Had not interfering left her wide open for . . . Oh, god, he couldn't even think the word!  
  
"You okay?" He heard Ron ask. He glanced over and Ron was clearly amazed at Harry's depth of worry. Harry hurriedly gave him a plain answer.  
  
"I'll tell you later."  
  
They began to exit when Ron swore. "I forgot! I'm supposed to go see Professor McGonogall for something now!" He glanced at his watch and swore again. "I'm dead!"  
  
"You should go, I'll see you next class," Harry replied to Ron's retreating back, after which Ron turned to run backwards, wave, and turn to continue sprinting.  
  
Looking around the room, Harry realized he had forgotten his quill. Walking calmly across the now empty classroom, as Snape had departed as well, he reached across the desk but someone got it first. He quickly looked up to see none other than the blond slime ball. His face twisted in disgust as Malfoy gave him a smirk.  
  
"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked without trying to hide his irritation. Malfoy smiled and twirled the quill expertly around his fingers, watching its light rotation with his blue eyes.  
  
"How delicate things can be." Malfoy spoke with an air of patience as though speaking to a child, "So frail and vulnerable. All it takes is someone with the initiative." His fingers placed the fragile quill on top of his index and middle finger, and then with one swift movement he snapped it with his thumb and released the pieces, which floated to the floor beneath their feet. "And once it's taken, you can't get it back." Harry watched stared at the two pieces and glared back upward.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Harry growled and Malfoy answered with a grin. "Don't bullshit me, Malfoy," he warned with a step toward him. Malfoy remained unmoved.  
  
It suddenly hit Harry what that could mean.  
  
"You . . . wouldn't . . . dare . . ." Harry said while his hand twitched, attempting to mask his panic about the implications being true.  
  
Malfoy smiled at him, and Harry felt a burning, flaring feeling. He was incredibly close to lunging at the perverted, sick bastard, but managed to restrain himself –  
  
"You haven't attacked me yet," Malfoy calmly observed, watching Harry's tense form. Harry's eyes narrowed.  
  
"I'm damn close."  
  
"But you haven't," Malfoy informed him. Harry stood rooted at the spot, trying to make himself attack, but something held him back. "Could it be you're not sure she's worth protecting? That she's hiding whom the mask hides?"  
  
Harry's bag slipped off of his shoulder and dropped with a smash to the ground. Malfoy looked at it with satisfaction and a little chuckle.  
  
"Bull's-eye," Malfoy said aloud. He raised his gaze. "You /are/ seeking that information, aren't you?"  
  
Harry did not answer.  
  
"I thought so, but I'm not sure whether to tell you or not." Malfoy's words were slow and playful.  
  
Harry advanced slightly. "Tell me what it is," he said firmly.  
  
Another smile. "I don't feel like it." It obviously was a game to him. Harry frowned; he would /not/ be used as a toy.  
  
"What is her secret?" His voice rose with every word.  
  
Malfoy slowly shook his head and Harry lost control.  
  
"JUST TELL ME, DAMN IT!" Harry shouted as he lunged forward and grabbed Malfoy by the shoulders. Malfoy, caught by surprise, tried to wrench himself away but Harry had caught him at the right angle and his body was pinned to the wall within seconds. Harry's arms were fixed, each hand planted halfway between each of Malfoy's shoulders and his neck while Malfoy held onto Harry's wrists but did not struggle. Harry was panting slightly and a wisp of black hair fell into his right eye. "Tell . . . me . . . now . . ."  
  
"Or what?" Malfoy asked calmly. He briefly scanned Harry's body just a few inches away from his own and laughed. "Are you planning to molest me if I don't, Potter?"  
  
Harry could've thrown up at the thought. "You're disgusting, Malfoy," he hissed through gritted teeth.  
  
"You can never be too careful," Malfoy said in a tone that hinted at implications about other people.  
  
"SHUT UP!!" Harry screamed at him, seizing him by his collar and throwing him downward. But Malfoy had anticipated it, and the instant Harry released Malfoy he grabbed onto a nearby desk and with a whip of his cloak he had his wand pointing at Harry's forehead. Harry froze. There was no telling that Malfoy wouldn't use a horrible curse now, maybe even one of the Unforgivables. Malfoy pushed himself up slowly, the smile gone from his face. Instead, he glared at Harry with fierce eyes and Harry returned the animosity.  
  
"Son of a dead bitch," Malfoy said quietly.  
  
"Ferret," Harry returned with a hiss.  
  
Malfoy's eyes narrowed and his frown etched deeper into his face. Apparently, he hadn't forgotten the incident with Mad-Eye Moody either. His wand inched closer to Harry's face, but Harry refused to move and show any intimidation.  
  
The sound of footsteps made both of them freeze and turn their heads toward the empty doorway. Moments later they came low, incomprehensible mumbling. As though struck with a sudden surge of energy, Malfoy returned his wand to its place in a flash and Harry stepped back, four eyes now staring expectantly at the door.  
  
Sure enough, Snape appeared at the doorway, his dark hair quivering slightly with his ongoing mumbling. He did not even notice them at first, beginning to take off his cape, but when his eyes fell upon Malfoy and Harry, his mumbling was cut off by a stare of disbelief. Flushing slightly, he resumed his upright posture and glared at the two of them.  
  
"What would two students be doing in class when they're already dismissed?" Snape's tone was colder than ever, the tone of someone who wanted to hide something. A moment's silence hung between them, unbroken until Harry finally spoke.  
  
"I forgot my quill," he replied truthfully before crouching down and grabbing the two halves. As he rose again, Malfoy's smirk nearly pushed Harry into another attack.  
  
"Your quill?" Snape repeated slowly and distastefully. "Really, Mr. Potter, I would expect a better lie from you."  
  
Harry's eyes widened with the injustice of the situation. "I wasn't lying!"  
  
"I'm sure, Mr. Potter," Snape answered smoothly, shifting back into his comfortable position as torturer. "Perhaps you can give me a better explanation . . . in detention."  
  
Harry's mouth opened like a goldfish's, without a sound coming out. Finally, he decided to simply grab his bag and turn to leave. As he did, he heard Malfoy's whisper, quiet enough so that only Harry heard it. "If you want information," Malfoy hissed, "Go to the source."  
  
With a silent glare in Malfoy's direction, and Snape still oblivious of everything on Harry's mind, Harry departed.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry later decided that he couldn't tell anyone about Malfoy's threat with the quill. Not only was it really unspeakable, but what /would/ he say? He couldn't just burst into Dumbledore's office like he had in the past and yell, "Professor Dumbledore, Aurora's in danger, and not of losing her 'life'!" No, Dumbledore would smile in that comforting and warm way and politely ask Harry if he needed to see the nurse. But while he was at it, Harry mused, he should yell, "And also Voldemort's possessing Aurora!" Wait a minute, Harry thought to himself: if Aurora's being possessed by Voldemort, and Malfoy wants to . . . to . . . do that to her . . . ew! A smile on Harry's face despite Harry's attempt to suppress it. Wouldn't Malfoy be surprised! But back to the other point, Malfoy was probably just blowing off steam with the entire threat. He's hard-headed, not a real criminal. And besides, Harry added to himself, why should he care what happens to that . . . that . . . her?  
  
But the question of Aurora's reliability still remained, nagging on Harry's mind. So, during lunch, Harry told Ron about his encounter with Malfoy, minus the quill.  
  
"So," Ron managed to grumble with a full mouth, "what do you think he meant by 'the source'?"  
  
"I have no idea," Harry replied sourly as he poked his food. Ron never ceased to amaze him with the ability to eat – and a lot, for that matter – in such situations. At the moment, Ron was on his fourth helping.  
  
"Well, let's think logically," Ron suggested, followed an audible gulp that made a smile flicker on Harry's face. "Where can we get information on Aurora? If you ask me, it would have to be the same place you'd find dirt on any student." His brow furrowed in thought. "I don't think we can ask my brothers – "  
  
Harry cut Ron off with a quiet chuckle before sinking into his serious train of thought. After a few moments, his fork clanged loudly on his plate and Harry stared at it. "Of course," Harry said with a groan. "Why didn't I think of it before?" His eyes locked with Ron's, which were still confused. "McGonogall's office! She has an entire cabinet full of records!"  
  
Ron's lips twisted into a frown. "Oh great," he mumbled sarcastically. "Now I get to visit Mr. I'm-not-a-cat-you-unworthy-scum-of-a-human-why-if-I-was- human-I'd-beat-the-hell-outta-you. Just what I need." And in went yet another mouthful.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Ouch! Ron, you stepped on my foot!"  
  
"Sorry! But couldn't they make these bloody cloaks bigger?"  
  
"I don't think they designed the cloak with sneaking around Hogwarts School at night as its purpose. And we've both gotten bigger since our last outing."  
  
"Well, you told me that your father used this bloody cloak with a bunch of his friends!"  
  
A pause. "Yeah, well, you're taking up nine tenths of the sheet."  
  
"I am not!"  
  
"Oh come on, Ron. Look at yourself."  
  
". . . Hey, I'm just making sure that I'm not seen."  
  
"You're impossible, you know that?"  
  
"Well bloody thanks for informing me."  
  
"You're bloody welcome."  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Bloody hmm?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Bloody, bloody, bloody."  
  
"No, really, shut up."  
  
"Bloody will do."  
  
A frustrated but light sigh escaped from Ron while Harry grinned widely at his companion. Fairly recently, Harry had begun teasing Ron excessively, though unsure as to why. Now in absence of a friendly bickering, their footsteps seemed to vibrate through the empty hallway as they neared McGonogall's office. Somehow, tonight, it seemed more forbidding than ever before. Perhaps it was merely the fact that it was after midnight and therefore darker than dark in the hallway. Perhaps Harry's conscience was just silently and mentally chiding him for sneaking and trying to find out Aurora's secret.  
  
*I have to find out,* Harry assured himself. *It's not just snooping. Hell, she could be possessed!*  
  
With this firmly set in mind, Harry glanced downward to maneuver his feet away from another painful encounter with Ron's. After falling into a rhythm of soft patting that resulted in no painful cries, his head raised and barely grazed Ron's red hair. Despite the methodical reassurance of their footsteps and the lack of other noise, Harry still felt as though someone was watching them as they came closer . . .  
  
A piercing screech rang through the night and made the pair jump, Ron letting out a muffled yelp. A foot got caught in their cloak and they stumbled, flailing arms, yet the scream continued. Once finally free of the heavy cloak, they looked up and saw the old woman in the portrait across from the office screaming her head off.  
  
"Oh my god! Burglars! Thieves! Oh, somebody, come help!" The woman managed to let out this high-pitched plea with a raspy breath before returning to her screaming routine. Ron flinched from the sound and Harry tried to hush her.  
  
"Please, don't scream," Harry begged in a stage whisper, but the woman would not heed. Filch would be sure to catch them now!  
  
"I say," a new voice interrupted, "do give us some peace!"  
  
Ron looked down and yelped again at the sight of a black fuzz ball, which after a few seconds had become focused into a cat.  
  
"My god, get a hold of yourself," Ramdeon uttered, glaring at Ron for a moment. Harry's mouth opened, but before any sound came out, Ramdeon was already talking to the old lady in the portrait. "Madam, will you kindly stop that infernal noise?" The cat inquired, though quite loudly to be heard over the yelling.  
  
The old lady's mouth freeze mid-scream, and her bottom lip quivered slightly. "You," she spat, her eyes narrowing in accusation. "You little hair ball! You're in this plot, too! You're helping these criminals!"  
  
"Let me assure you, madam," Ramdeon continued quietly, "that these are not criminals, but friends of mine."  
  
"Friends," Harry heard Ron vaguely echo in a whisper only meant for Harry. "Since when?"  
  
Meanwhile, the old lady was not getting any more convinced. "Pah! Friends! Even more reason to alert the rest of the school!" Her mouth opened wide again and the piercing noise made Harry want to cover his ears, but he found himself instead praying that no one would hear.  
  
Ramdeon's hair stood on end and made him seem twice his normal size. He swiftly turned to Harry, who was fortunate – or unfortunate – enough to be standing right beside the painting. "Excuse me," Ramdeon said to Harry, but before Harry could inquire about what, Ramdeon's claws were digging into the pants of Harry's pajamas. Stiffening, Harry felt the cat jump up onto his shoulder, reach over to the portrait, and make a soft ripping sound.  
  
"Oh, my word!" Exclaimed the old woman, now with a large scratch over her face. Harry was astounded at Ramdeon's bravery until the woman shifted her head to the side and he realized that the scratch was over her face, not etched into it.  
  
"As I have asked before," Ramdeon growled, just as politely but coldly, "please do hold your peace."  
  
The old woman glared at the cat, mumbled something about hairy balls, and disappeared.  
  
As Ramdeon dropped gracefully to the ground, Harry found that his ears were ringing with the lack of noise. Moreover, his shoulder was aching where Ramdeon had been perched.  
  
"Thanks, Ramdeon," Harry began, but Ron's rushing forward and into McGonogall's office cut Harry short. That, combined with the fact that another foreign voice interrupted their conversation. Filch's voice, distant but distinctive. "Oh, damn!" Harry cursed before stumbling with the cloak into McGonogall's office. Ramdeon slid through the closing door and looked up expectantly at Harry. Harry glanced over at Ron, who was busy fumbling through a large cabinet on the other side of the room.  
  
"Hurry up, Ron, Filch's coming!" Harry urged as he heard Filch's muffled footsteps through the door.  
  
"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying!" Ron mumbled as he reached for the last batch of folders and flipped through the top where the names where labeled. Of course, the one cabinet could hold all the student's information at Hogwarts. It was finding the right information that was incredibly difficult. "Vintette, Weasely, Weatherbee, Weathervane, Weckle, Wittle . . ." Ron let out an audible groan. "There's no Withertopp here, Harry!"  
  
Harry swore again, but this time sensed that Filch heard him. "Quick, the two of you," Ramdeon whispered, "get behind the desk."  
  
Wondering silently why Ramdeon was helping them but not bothering to question his cooperation, Harry and Ron obeyed clumsily by diving into their hiding spot seconds before the door rattled.  
  
"Is there someone in here?" Filch demanded, though in a muffled voice, on the other side of the door. Ramdeon leaped atop the desk and looked at the door with a face of disgust before answering.  
  
"Yes, I am in here, sir."  
  
"Is that you, Ramdeon?"  
  
"Very true, sir."  
  
"Open the goddamn door!"  
  
"I'm sorry, sir," Ramdeon replied with a catty grin, "I do not wield the necessary equipment."  
  
"What?" Came the disbelieving shriek of Filch.  
  
"Thumbs, good sir," Ramdeon clarified with too wide a smile.  
  
"Good God, Ramdeon, use magic!"  
  
"I'm not supposed to, sir."  
  
The door stopped rattling and Harry suppressed a chuckle. Filch, however, was insistent as ever. "Well, Ramdeon, is there anyone else in there with you?"  
  
"Anyone else?" Ramdeon echoed thoughtfully, glancing around the room.  
  
"Yes, goddamn it! Is anybody else in the bloody room?"  
  
"I do not recall . . ."  
  
"Goddamn you!" Filch screamed at the door, his voice entering the room like a siren.  
  
Ramdeon was thoroughly enjoying this, from the look on his little face. "Pardon me for asking, but is 'goddamn' your favorite word today?"  
  
Ron chuckled, but Harry's elbow seemed to stop him.  
  
"Godda- Ramdeon! I swear I'll catch you someday, you little rat!"  
  
"Cat, good sir, cat."  
  
"Shut up, you old flea bag!" With a cry of frustration, Filch's footsteps could be heard getting quieter and quieter, fading and fading . . .  
  
"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed when it was safe to emerge, as he did with a huge smile on his face. Ramdeon grinned at Ron and bowed his head.  
  
"Thank you, good gentlemen," Ramdeon replied in a quiet and imitatively cocky sort of way. "But," his face suddenly fell, "I must tell you both something very important – "  
  
"No time," Harry whispered urgently, shoving Ron out the door. "Knowing Filch, he'll be back soon, and now's our chance to leave."  
  
"But – "  
  
"Thanks for your help, Ramdeon."  
  
"But it's about – "  
  
The door shut quietly, and Ramdeon was left alone.  
  
"Hermione," Ramdeon finished quietly to himself. With a lonely sigh, he curled up on the desk and remained silent, yet awake, for no less than a few hours.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I can't believe it." Harry sat on his bed, unable to fall asleep, boring holes into the floor with his eyes. "I can't believe it."  
  
"I know, there was no folder on Aurora," Ron mumbled from his spot on the bed.  
  
"It's not just that, Ron," Harry groaned and gritted his teeth. "How could I have been so /stupid/?"  
  
"What're you talking about, Harry?" Ron's voice seemed distant and uninterested, as though concentrated on sleeping. This gave Harry a comforting feeling as he lay back on his bed and proceeded to stare at the ceiling.  
  
"I actually trusted that ferret. I actually trusted Draco Malfoy. Of all the bloody bastards in the world to trust – Malfoy!" His words began to tumble one after the other. "How can I do this? How can I be driven to the point of not trusting someone I thought was my friend, and instead my enemy? It's so screwed! /I'm/ so screwed!"  
  
"Stop hating yourself, Harry," Ron said a little bit more intelligibly. "Maybe Professor McGonogall needed that folder."  
  
"No, no, it's not just that!" Harry was growing more impatient by the second. "Can't you see, Ron? Malfoy /told/ Filch I was going to be there! That's why he was there! Didn't you notice that Filch would have had to hear the screaming all the way across the school and come running in order to reach there when he did?" Harry's breath came out as a ragged and twisted exhale, but then his breathing slowed. "This is exactly what he wanted."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Voldemort."  
  
"To get you in trouble?"  
  
"No! To make me this confused! Ron, I have no idea how to trust anymore! I trusted Malfoy, the son of a Death Eater, with a matter about Voldemort! For crying out loud, this was exactly what he wanted! He's doing this to me. It's . . . torture! I . . . I don't know . . ." Harry's voice became weak. "Ron, I don't want to be close to anyone anymore."  
  
"Don't say that bull." Harry could hear Ron clearly, and realized that Ron was now sitting upon his own bed, staring at Harry. "He wants you to think that way. He wants you to be this confused. But, my god, Harry!" Ron's eyes flickered with intensity. "Don't hand what he wants to him on a silver platter!"  
  
Ron's words hit Harry sharply, and Harry almost recoiled. "But Ron . . ." His memory of the dragging scene that morning flew before Harry's eyes. "It's like you said . . . I've already lost . . . I don't – "  
  
"Bloody hell!" Suddenly Ron appeared before Harry's eyes, staring at Harry with a look of pure determination so unexpected that Harry literally jumped. "Harry, whether you like it or not, I'm not leaving just like that! Hermione – get used to her name, Harry! – Hermione was my best friend too. And I want to kill that bastard with everything I've got for that." Ron's hands shook slightly. "And I'm not going to let him play with you like this! Snap out of it, Harry!" Harry felt Ron's hands planted on each of his shoulders. "I know this isn't like you! Not to give up without a fight! He's got you in his grasp, look at what you're saying! Goddamn it all! Fight back!" Ron's gaze made Harry's breath clog in his throat – a deep and pure hatred, not directed at Harry but instead the source of all the pain. The voice became much softer, as though sensing Harry's desire to recoil. "Harry, if you don't do it for yourself," Ron whispered, "do it for Hermione. She wouldn't want you like this. Do it for me. /I/ don't want you like this . . . Isolation just isn't the answer . . . And no matter what, I'll fight with you."  
  
The silence that followed comforted both of them with a mutual feeling of understanding. Ron's hands awkwardly left Harry's shoulders, and he drew a deep breath with his eyes still locked with Harry's. With a quiet and reassuring smile, Ron strolled back to his bed and tucked himself under the covers.  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Thank you." The words left Harry with a deep feeling; he was truly grateful to have such an incredibly loyal friend.  
  
It seemed that Ron had had enough of awkward silences. "Don't get all mushy on me."  
  
Harry chuckled a little loudly at that and gave the nearly sleeping Ron a large smile. "Mushy? Mushy, says Mr. Mushy-King-of-Mushiness?"  
  
"Well, why don't we call the Department of Redundancy Department?"  
  
"Hah, hah, hah. Did you come up with that all on your own, Ron?"  
  
"Oh shut up, you moron."  
  
At that moment Harry realized why he had begun teasing Ron so much. With a hesitant smile still tugging at the corners of his lips and a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, Harry lay his head back down and closed his eyes.  
  
"Oh, and good night, Mr. Redundant."  
  
"Good night, Mr. Bloody-Mushy-King-of-Mushiness."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Author's Note: Yes, I am slow. Yes, you all have the right to kill me. My only excuse is these two horrible words: high school. God, vacation doesn't feel like vacation anymore! Okay, so now I'll answer the two reviews that I got for the last chapter and pray for the forgiveness of other faithful reviewers.  
  
[Padfoot]: Well, as you can see, it is /not/ the end of the story, and about Hermione being Voldemort . . . talk about weird dress-up day! o.O But I hope you saw the significance of that dream in this chapter . . . yeah. And, yes, the last chapter was very dramatic. I'm a drama queen, through and through. ^ - ^ Thanks for reviewing again!  
  
[bakadesu]: Asterisk, comes out from hiding under a rock with an evil smile, asterisk. You are not pwned . . . you are HOHNED! By the Hohn kids! Muaha! Asterisk, talks in third person, asterisk. ^ - ^ 


	10. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

The next morning, though welcoming as it was with clear skies and fairly warm weather, Harry's contentment from last night faded toward lunch period. At that point, as he took the role of dragger and Ron was forced the role of dragged, they raced toward the library.

"Harry," Ron whined from behind, "we're missing lunch!"

"This is more important than lunch," Harry assured Ron without slowing his pace. "I'm sure we'll find something on Aurora in the library."

A long, exaggerated sigh came from behind Harry. "Fine, but if I collapse from lack of food and exhaustion, expect a large medical bill with Hedwig tomorrow."

Taking this as close enough to Ron's consent as possible, Harry continued onward through the corridors until they reached the library. There, Harry released Ron (who was about to swear loudly but was stopped by a glare with the librarian), and they stumbled in. Nobody else was there as far as they could see, beside the regular old librarian breathing down their necks and probably wondering what the heck they were doing here at this point in the day.

"So, genius, where do we start?" Inquired Ron as they began to stroll through the packed bookcases. "Or should we wait for the right book to just fall on top of us?"

"I'm looking, I'm looking," Harry assured Ron with a patient tone. His eyes scrolled quickly through the names of old, battered books, flinching a few times a few titles such as _Love Magic: Drive the Witches Wild_.

"How interesting," Ron teased and poked at the aforementioned book with a wide grin toward Harry. Normally, Harry would have responded with some witty remark about the situation, but now his mind was only focused on getting the information he wanted.

"Aha!" he whispered in triumph as his three fingers tipped out an enormous book titled _The Guaranteed Complete Index of Wizard and Witch Families since 1690_. Pulled suddenly by gravity's jerk, the heavy book sailed out of the bookshelf and managed to hit Harry in the stomach. Harry's wind was knocked out of him and Ron's head whipped around to find Harry sprawled on the library floor in pain.

"Wow, Harry," Ron said as he helped the brunette to his feet, who was still struggling to hold the book in his arms without tipping over. "I wasn't being serious about the falling book thing."

"Oh, shut up and help me with this," Harry urged with a dangerous sway. Ron took hold of the other end of the book and they heaved it to an empty table, where their impatience and weakness got the best of them . . .

_KLUNK._

"Shh!" came the urgent whisper and piercing glare of the librarian. Harry and Ron plastered bitter smiles on their faces until she had looked away and their curved lips dissolved into frowns.

"By the way," Ron added in a whisper as Harry took a chair in front of the intimidating book, "what the bloody hell are we doing here?"

"Researching," Harry answered plainly, grabbing about half of the book and prying it open with all his might. Soon, the covers parted, revealing old and smelly paper covered with about fifty alphabetized names per page, each with its own summary of family origins and a few unique achievements or traits, in a size as small as a quill's width at the tip. Though Harry's eyes widened involuntarily at the sight, he quickly shifted back to business and his head soon tipped downward, scanning the list of names.

"Researching _what_?" Ron asked, seemingly a little annoyed at Harry's considerable lack of answers. Harry grabbed another large chunk of the book and heaved it over, seemingly searching for something toward the end. Once Harry got to the "W" section, he began flipping through furiously, his eyes and chin darting rapidly from place to place as he bent over the book in anticipation. Ron's lips parted slightly when he realized what Harry was doing.

"Harry," Ron whispered with a quirked eyebrow, "do you really think that if there is any information about Aurora and Voldemort being connected, that the _school_ would have it in the _library_?"

"I know, I know," Harry replied with a heavy exhale and rippling of pages, his eyes never leaving the text. "But we have to try."

Harry's body went rigid as the names grew closer to Withertopp – Wicker, Wickle, Wickly – and Ron's grip on the table while overlooking Harry's shoulder grew so tight that his knuckles went white. Thousands of names seemed to separate them from that one name that they sought, pouring in page after page every time they thought they were close. Now it was getting unbearably close, and Harry could hear the dull pounding of his heart contrast with the light flips of the pages. It _had _to be in here. There were millions of names, Aurora's name just _had _to be . . . Withering, Withersang, Withersop, Withertape – and the same thought ran through both of their minds: _was this it?_

Withertopping.

No Withertopp.

No, no, _no,_ this would _not_ register in Harry's mind – his mouth senselessly hung open. Half a second later, Ron's palm slammed on the wooden surface of the table, with the loud boom censoring his verbal tangle of profanities.

"This can _not_ be happening…" Harry whispered to himself as Ron swore again. His eyes were still glued on that page. "We must've missed it – "

"Bloody mother-f-", a screech of a far off chair graciously covered up Ron's voice, "hell, Harry! We didn't miss it, it's not bloody there!" Ron's quivering hands wandered upward to grasp his fiery hair. "And we were so close! Damn it! Damn it all to hell!"

Meanwhile, Harry's eyes widened in realization. Aurora was half Muggle, so there was a reasonable chance that she wouldn't be in here. Perhaps this only had pureblood families. "Pureblood," Harry breathed out with a groan.

After a few moments to compose himself, Ron let out a ragged sigh in response. Harry, meanwhile, slumped in his chair in a defeated manner. But though his composure may have been calm, his insides were not. He felt as if he was emotionally on the edge, ready to break at any moment. Everything that went wrong till this point suddenly lay heavily at the bottom of his stomach. He couldn't explain it, only suppress it with fear of what an overflow would bring.

"Well," Harry's weakened voice offered in the following uncomfortable silence, "we should keep looking."

"Guaranteed complete . .. ." Ron trailed off, staring at the dusty book with a saddened smile.

Harry slowly rose out of his chair, with his hands on the left edge of the book now, straining to close it. He didn't manage to close it, but instead ended up blinking at the G section.

Harry's stomach twisted and his legs wouldn't budge. It was almost involuntary, his index finger shooting to the edge of the page and his eyes mechanically and frantically scanning the pages for that name –

It wasn't there. Of course, Harry said half-sadly and half-irritatedly to himself, extinguishing the flickering hope previously alit. Both of her parents were Muggles. She was the first in the family to become a witch.

"You know," Ron commented from a distance, oblivious to Harry's delirious search, "You look like Hermione, bent over and intent on research like that."

Suddenly, and out of nowhere, a burning rage erupted within Harry at that comparison. There was no explanation, no reason; but just like that, Harry's hands clenched into fists of iron, and his eyes flickered murderously. His head jerked upward with an audible hiss, and he glared at Ron with such ferocity that the smile on Ron's face dissolved into a fixed line of fear.

"Harry . . ." Ron let out slowly, his eyes fixed upon this eerie sight. He looked like he was about to kill someone, and his glare sent a chill down Ron's spine. Harry wasn't like that . . . "Harry?"

Harry's eyes suddenly went glazed, as though realizing something, and then his rigid body went back to normal. But he didn't say anything, only grabbed the book and averted his eyes from Ron's gaze. Ron did not try to help Harry with the weight, and Harry made no sound as he struggled to swing the book into motion. Even as Harry passed by Ron, he twisted his body awkwardly to avoid any physical contact. This sent yet another cold blow to Ron that made him gulp nervously. After silently shoving the book into its place, Harry spoke without turning toward Ron.

"I'm going to go to Hagrid's," he declared quietly and tonelessly. "You stay here and keep researching. Aurora's bound to come up somewhere." His eyes vaguely flashed to the side but otherwise he refused to acknowledge Ron's physical presence.

The actual statement did not even pass completely through Ron's mind. It only distantly touched the surface, since the only thing that he heard was Harry's cold and bitter sound. It was undeniable; he was scared of Harry at that point, scared of the emotional volcano that just exploded in front of his eyes and left splatters of their trust to stain the carpeted floor. Ron nodded silently, not feeling the need to voice his answer, and not finding the voice to apologize for upsetting Harry. Or perhaps that was stubbornness. Time will fix it, Ron convinced himself with another inaudible gulp. Hopefully.

Then, without another word, Harry turned his back toward his best friend and left the library, leaving Ron with the cold and biting but somehow familiar burn of loneliness.

* * *

Little did Ron know that the depths of Harry's psychological unsettlement were phantoms deeper than exposed at the library. But years of hiding, years of covering up, years of abuse without protest had given Harry a gift: the ability to act. If an acquaintance asked how he was doing, and Harry was feeling the more miserable than ever, he could muster an innocent smile and answer falsely. If he felt like the trauma has balled up in a lump at the back of his throat, he could breathe calmly and gulp it down. If his Uncle Vernon's iron fists and dirt-covered boots ever left bodily bruises upon his body that throbbed like drums in his ears, he could still glare back defiantly.

But this sometimes counteracted as a curse: although it may have protected him from crying or breaking down, it only suppressed these feelings deep within him. Now the frozen steel balls in his gut contracted harder when he wanted to cry; the vile in the back of his throat crawled farther up before he gulped it down; the tears almost squeezed through the slit on the side of his eye before he feverishly blinked them away.

Lately, however, these symptoms seemed to be getting worse. Perhaps it was the fact that everything was weighing down on him. Awareness comes at a price, and Harry could feel its bitter sneer. Gradually, everything in the world began to conspire against him, and the little miracles and blessings every day passed unrecognized through his vision. All that his eye could recognize was evil. It was imprinted upon his memory in every shape possible, and sometimes when he couldn't find evil in front of his nose, his mind conjured it in the forms of a gentle smile and a helping hand. Trust that was once solid began to be questioned. Help that was once accepted with overwhelming appreciation was rejected with suspicion. His entire world was turned inside out, leaving a dull throbbing in places where love used to thrive.

But Harry wasn't aware of any of this. His emotions and subsequent behaviors were so remote, so unprocessed, that he never even recognized it. Ask a depressed person if he is depressed, and if truly so, he won't be able to tell. That's because every single intricate fiber of his existence has plunged into this numbness, and there is no part of him that remembers any other way of life. Depression isn't a feeling; it's a state of the mind, of the body, of the soul. Nothing is spared, and there are only two ways of crawling out of it: either with strong will or the support of another being. With another being, the person can realize that there is more to life than endless suffering, and that there can be happiness again.

Right now, Harry had neither. He had lost himself a long time ago, with the death of Hermione. He had taken the plunge, and now he couldn't feel himself drowning. And with the severing of his friendship with Hermione, he couldn't trust easily. Relying on Ron grew too risky for his hesitant soul, and after one last attempt to reach out with the playful teasing, he finally felt himself cut off. That happened the instant that Ron made the painful connection between himself and Hermione. Such subconscious treason cannot be forgiven easily, even if the sincere words may tumble out of the mouth and the mind may believe that all is resolved.

These thoughts, coupled with many others, are constantly silenced by the subconscious and swallowed up to unreachable depths. Undetected by the mind, they can only be vaguely sensed by another presence in the human being, an unexplainable one that lives on with all of life's trials. This was the presence that made Harry aware of a cold ball at the bottom of his stomach in an effort to make him realize that something's wrong. In fact, this presence lives inside each human being; when you feel like your insides are raw, that's the presence at work.

And though it tried desperately to shake Harry out of his reverie, Harry remained concealed inside himself. The thoughts that slithered through his mind as he walked through the grass toward Hagrid's cottage were all bitter. The sun was beating down upon him, sending violent reflections everywhere off of his glasses. His emerald eyes watched the rhythm of his patting feet, parting the soft grass. His head was tilted downward, ignoring the crystal-like color of the sky and the welcoming white clouds. A light breeze ruffled his hair playfully and the fixed line below his nose grew sour. To him, all of these good signs contradicted the raging storm inside of him, and Harry was angry that everything else could be happy.

After all, misery loves company.

The bellowing barking of Fang reached Harry's ears as he found himself at Hagrid's door. But to Harry's surprise, it did not emerge from between the cracks of the door; instead, it came from his side. Harry did not even have enough time to glance. In seconds, a dark flurry confused his eyes, and he was knocked off his feet and onto the grass-covered ground by the gigantic – and not to mention heavy – dog. With more howling that threatened to break Harry's ears, the dog licked his face sloppily, making Harry's eyes go shut and his forehead shrivel up.

"Hey, hey," Harry let out between licks, carefully avoiding getting slobber in his mouth. The hands planted on either side of the dog did nothing to help get him off. "Fang!"

"Whoa, the', Fang," a familiar voice rang out, and a large hand grasped Fang's collar to wrench him off and let Harry breathe. "Yer gonna kill 'im like tha'!"

Harry felt his arm being grabbed firmly pulled upward effortlessly, and his body bounced upward off the grass in seconds. As soon as he was on his feet, he tilted his head upward and saw Hagrid towering over him with a big, bushy smile.

"Ye okay, 'Arry?"

"Sure," Harry answered breathlessly, having only recently recovered his ability to breathe.

"Sorry 'bout tha'," Hagrid apologized while releasing Harry's arm but keeping a firm hold on Fang. "Fang's jus' excited ta see ya . . . "

Harry mustered a small smile in response.

"So, 'ow ya been? 'aven't seen ya in a while!" A friendly pat on the back nearly knocked the breath out of Harry again, which wasn't helped when Hagrid pulled him into an awkward and airless hug. Before Harry's words could be muffled by Hagrid's heavy clothes, Hagrid backed away. "Can't talk righ' 'ere, gotta tend the Snacklers. Come wit' me an' let's cha'."

The giant led Fang away with one hand, leaving Harry to jog alongside. He did not know where they were going, but the word "Snacklers" hadn't sounded very pleasant. Within moments, Harry caught sight of a large pen made of chicken wire, and inside were animals about half Fang's size with an ant head, a spider abdomen, and the legs of a kangaroo. It was undeniably the weirdest creature Harry had ever seen, and Harry wasn't thrilled about meeting them.

"Ain't they beau'iful?" Hagrid grinned proudly down at them, but Harry felt a little sick when one started salivating. He decided not to respond, nor was he suddenly in the mood; he realized his purpose of being here and his face immediately hardened. Disgusting creatures, anyway.

"So, 'ow's school?" Though Hagrid kept his face merry and straight, his tone indicated that he had already heard the answer. From one of the other teachers, no doubt. Hagrid released Fang, who ran wildly around the pen, barking and playing with the creatures from behind the chicken wire.

"Fine," Harry replied a bit sourly.

Hagrid's hand grasped a nearby blue bucket and began tossing worm-like animals through the chicken wire. The Snacklers squealed monstrously and devoured the worms hungrily, bickering and fighting over each.

"An' Ron?"

Harry's stomach twisted suddenly. "Fine," Harry repeated, though this time he didn't try to contain his distaste. Hagrid immediately picked up on this; he stopped feeding the Snacklers, who squealed again in dismay, and turned inquisitively toward Harry.

"Somethin' the ma'er?"

Harry wanted to answer that 'of course something's the matter, can't you tell?' But he decided not to. He needed to get to his point as soon as possible. "No," he lied fluently, keeping his eyes on the chicken wire.

Hagrid wasn't satisfied with the answer, but apparently decided not to press further. He turned instead toward the Snacklers. "Wha' 'bout 'ermione? 'ow ya been wit' tha'?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed dangerously. Why did everyone always bring that up? Didn't they realize –

"Fine," Harry bit off the word angrily.

This time Hagrid was truly alarmed, and spun around to give Harry a worried look. "Ya wanna talk 'bout I' er somethin'?"

Harry's head twisted to stare at the cabin with an irritated wrinkle of his nose, and his hands in the pockets of his cloak curled into defensive balls. He would never even think about attacking Hagrid – that was stupid as well as impossible. But it was nevertheless a reflex, an involuntary one. "No."

Seeing this as a sign that Harry needed yet more time, Hagrid shrugged to himself and returned to the Snacklers.

Once Harry had calmed down a bit and started feeling guilty, he allowed his voice to emerge from his throat. "Sorry – "

"No 'pology necessary, 'arry," Hagrid suddenly said very brightly, apparently happy that Harry wasn't mad at him. "It's been rough on ya. I understan'."

"Hagrid . . ." he began quickly, eager to change the subject. Though his eyes were still set on the cottage, the wood became a blur in his mind. "I need to ask you about something."

"Anythin'," Hagrid replied and gave Harry a quick and sincere smile.

Harry took a deep breath and finally faced Hagrid, not knowing how to address the matter. "Well, er . . ." he was cut off by a loud objection from a Snackler, but hastily continued. "You know Aurora? Aurora Withertopp?"

"Sure," Hagrid exclaimed slowly, recognition filling his facial features. "Brigh' one, she is. Alwa's eager ta learn – "

"Do you know anything about her secret?" Harry unexpectedly blurt out.

Hagrid's face turned fearful for a moment, and he stuttered a bit with his answer. "S- secret? Wha' secret?"

Harry took two steps toward Hagrid's form in excitement. "You know what it is, don't you?"

"Wha' secret?" Hagrid repeated as the wind picked up his wild hair and veiled his face.

"Hagrid," Harry pursued, sensing Hagrid's stiffness, "We know that there is one. And you know what it is. I – "

"I ain't sayin' nothin'."

Harry blinked in disbelief at Hagrid. "What?"

"Strict orders fro' Dumbledore."

"But Hagrid – "

"An'," Hagrid looked at Harry seriously, "It's bes' ta keep outta this one."

"What is it? Come on, Hagrid," Harry came closer, but Hagrid avoided Harry's eyes.

"Jus' 'cause I'm yer frien' don' mean I can break th' rules for ya. I'm a teacher, too, an' I gotta do Dumbledore's orders. 'e said 'specially don' mention it ta 'Arry, it'd hurt – " Hagrid broke off, and his eyes widened.

"So Dumbledore told you not to tell me? Why – "

"I shouldn'ta said tha'," Hagrid chided himself quietly, shaking his head. "I should _no'_ have said tha' . . ."

"Listen – "

"This wasn't what I meant when I said 'go to the source', Potter."

Harry whipped around in a fury to find himself face to face with a widely grinning Malfoy. Hagrid rotated on the spot and his body immediately stiffened upon the sight of the blonde student.

" 'ello, ther', Draco," Hagrid attempted to say welcomingly, but got in return no acknowledgement of his existence. Instead, Malfoy's eyes remained set on Harry, who gritted his teeth at Malfoy's timing.

"You're still trying to figure it out, aren't you?" Malfoy tilted his head mockingly, and Harry's fists shook slightly.

"Stay the bloody hell away, Malfoy," Harry spat angrily. Once again, something boiled up inside of him, some sort of uncontrollable fire in need of an outlet. And Malfoy was the perfect outlet. His breaths began to grow shorter and shorter, and his fixed glare remained deadly. Malfoy's smile widened at Harry's rage, savoring the flickering emerald eyes, the stiff body, and the rounded balls bulging in his pockets. Harry, in return, felt himself on the edge of a killer attack. It was exhilarating in a scary way; he had never wanted to kill Malfoy so badly. Through his mind flashed gruesome possibilities of Malfoy's fate.

Malfoy, meanwhile oblivious to the unmatched strength and depth of Harry's unreachable and insatiable pit of loathing, dared to take another step toward the brunette. He was only two feet away, a distance to small for Harry's comfort. "I told you to go to the source, and you go to this old hag – "

"Shut . . . up . . ." Harry warned, making sure that his wand was in his pocket. "That was a trap, you bastard."

Malfoy's eyebrows perked in an amused arc. "Took you long enough to figure it out."

"Now, now!" Hagrid intervened, placing a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. "We don' wan' no trouble, Draco – "

Harry jerked himself violently out of Hagrid's grip just as Malfoy hissed, "Keep your crooked nose out of this, you overgrown flea bag."

And Harry finally lost it. Now pent up inside of him, the violent storm erupted and would blow Malfoy to pieces.

"You're gonna pay for that one, Malfoy!" Harry's voice thrashed against Malfoy's form just as his hand dived into his pocket and thrust out his wand, pointing it right between Malfoy's eyes. Hagrid's hand reached for him, but Harry ducked and jumped aside, his wand quivering excitedly.

"What," Malfoy asked calmly, not taking out his own wand but keeping his frozen blue eyes locked in a frosty stare. "Can't think of a spell to use? Why don't you ask your know-it-all dead whore?"

The only picture of Hermione that flashed through Harry's mind was the image of her in the cell with Voldemort –

"You filthy, fu – " Harry's voice erupted from his throat, vibrating furiously just as Hagrid exclaimed, "that was low!", and censored Harry's unearthly war cry, "Son of a bitch!"

Like a rabid dog, Harry lunged at Malfoy with his wand in hand. Malfoy responded by whipping out his own hand before Harry knocked Malfoy off his feet. Harry could hear the low and thunderous warnings of Hagrid, whose hand was clenching Harry's robes and attempting to rip off Harry. But Harry held onto Malfoy as stubbornly as death, his stomach feeling like it was going to be punctured by Malfoy's wand. Harry screamed out an incantation just as Malfoy did, and Harry's wand on Malfoy's chest erupted violently while Harry felt his stomach being kicked as he was blown skyward into Hagrid's grasp, who thrust Harry to the ground not so gently.

Suddenly, Harry's stomach twisted excruciatingly and his breath became a gasp, clutching his ill stomach. But, to his incredibly surprise, his fingers felt the skin actually moving beneath, bubbling like a potion underneath his flesh. A shudder jolted up Harry's spine, followed by a sharp wave of pain that made Harry groan. From afar, he could hear Malfoy's muffled squeals and rapid feet movement, and in the midst of all the pain and confusion, Harry hoped cruelly that Malfoy would enjoy the tarantula spell. His thoughts were cut short by another engulfing round of pain and a ball formed in the back of Harry's throat. He felt as if he was going to throw up right there on the grass, and his quick gulps were only encouraging the vile's emergence.

After the squeals were silenced by Hagrid, the giant suddenly appeared hovering above Harry, blocking out the sunlight.

"'Arry? 'Arry, wha - " His voice was only floating in the air, for Harry could barely hear it with his ears clogged up in pain. Another shiver crawled up his spine, and this time his entire body flinched. Harry suddenly convulsed and he felt the slimy liquid slithering up his throat into his burning mouth and splattering on the grass. The bubbling became more furious and Harry felt like he was going to throw up again, but this time Hagrid scooped Harry up in his big arms. It was suddenly hard to breathe, and Harry's breaths became airy wheezes and tight gasps, though the remaining liquid in his mouth threatened to choke him. Coughs racked his entire body as Harry felt himself being carried away and the familiar scenery turned into a motionless blur. His eyes blinked frantically, but it didn't help, and soon Harry took a deep breath and felt his body go limp.

* * *

Ron irritatedly shoved another book closed. Not a word about Aurora had been written in any of the seemingly thousands of books that he checked.

"What the bloody hell .. . . " Ron asked himself in a hissing whisper, but he instinctively turned around to make sure that the librarian wasn't there. She wasn't, but this gave Ron very little reassurance. With another long sigh, he dragged his body upward off the chair to replace the book and get another one. Meanwhile, his brain was swarming with unvoiced curses, and he assured himself that Harry would cool off after his visit with Hagrid.

Just as his fingertips slid the book into the enormous shelf, a high-pitched scream of pain thrashed against him. Ron's head whipped upward, his body suddenly frozen with fear. One moment later, his feet were pounding against the ground as he ran past endless shelves to find the person in the library who had screamed. Then, he abruptly stopped, as did the blood in his veins when he saw who it was.

Dark raven hair masked her face and her books were scattered on the ground. Her body was shifting up and down with gasps and moans of pain, and the sight of Aurora was just enough for Ron to grow pale with thoughts of Voldemort. But that didn't scare him as much as her arm, where her white fingernails were digging into her skin, just beside a slither of bright red blood that seeped down and splattered upon the carpeted floor. The blood sent a wave of sickness through Ron, who was never good with blood. The thing that unnerved him the most, however, was her masked face, for he couldn't see what was hiding beneath.

"Oh, my dear!" The librarian shrieked in surprise when she saw Aurora's arm and rushed over to inspect it. As soon as the librarian's fingers touched that arm, Aurora screamed out again as though she had been burned. Ron silently watched as though it was a horror movie, something totally unreal. It could not be possible that he was standing right in front of Aurora -

"You need to go to the Hospital Wing!" The librarian exclaimed, and to Ron's terror she turned to him. "Ron, take her there!"

Ron's breathing stopped. Did this woman want him dead? How could she ask him for such a thing? His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"It's alright," Aurora wheezed slowly, lifting her head up. Her dark hair parted like curtains and a pair of bright green eyes shined beneath. Ron felt himself breathing again, thankful that the eyes weren't blood red. "I'll go by myself."

"No, you won't!" The librarian objected declaratively and placed a hand upon Aurora's shoulder to push her forward. "Ron, go ahead and take her to Madam Pomfrey, I need to speak with someone."

Ron gulped nervously and audibly, his heart fluttering as he flinched away. Before he had time to refuse, the librarian had left. Ron and Aurora stood face to face, alone in the library.

"Er," Ron said weakly, his knees quivering a little from the thought of her attacking him.

"I'm sorry," Aurora suddenly said gently, her eyes fixed upon Ron. "I know I'm the last person you want to see. It's okay . . ." she sighed, and Ron unconsciously questioned the "evil" within her. How could someone with such a calm voice harbor Voldemort? Wasn't there supposed to be a big, booming, scary voice? Or a hiss?

Just as she was about to leave alone, Ron felt an unexplainable sympathetic obligation. He silently convinced himself that Aurora wandering the hallways wasn't a good idea. Though, somehow, it didn't occur to him that she had been doing exactly that ever since her arrival. "Wait," he heard his voice answer, "I'll go with you."

Her warm smile did not strengthen Ron's heart, and soon enough Ron found himself quietly walking alongside Aurora in the dungeon hallway. The pair were deadly silent, one with pain and the other with fear.

"I'm really sorry," Aurora offered after a few minutes of silence. Her eyes were on the stone floor, allowing Ron to look at her face without the chance of meeting her eyes. To his surprise, shining streams were painted on her cheeks. She was crying.

"It's . . . okay . . .." Ron answered awkwardly, not intending to comfort her extensively.

"No, it's not," Aurora replied quietly. "It's not okay. I know you hate me, and you shouldn't be forced to do this."

Ron's mouth opened, but he found himself unable to deny what she had said. Instead, he stayed silent out of guilt.

"Look, as soon as we're there, you should just turn around and leave. You won't have to see my face again."

Her words somehow triggered something in Ron, some form of doubt and sympathy. "I don't . . ." But once again, no words came out of his mouth.

After a few more minutes in silence, treading along to the Hospital Wing, Ron blurted out a question that had been bugging him for a while.

"What happened to your arm?"

Aurora became stiffer, but never took her eyes away from the floor. "I don't know," she whispered, with as much fear in her voice as Ron felt at that moment. As if in response, the flow of blood became faster and began to leave a trail on the floor. Ron pulled out his wand a mumbled a spell, keeping it pointed at the stains as they slowly evaporated.

* * *

Harry awoke with a bright light that stung his lidded eyes like an orange flare. He started as his eyes blinked furiously, and he realized that he was in the Hospital Wing, shielded away by a rippling curtain. He sluggishly observed his surroundings until his vision was obscured by a tall man walking past. Somehow, the man looked familiar, but Harry could not tell by just the shadow that creeped along his curtain. The man was heading toward another bed, and Harry saw a person lying in it, unmoving.

"Good afternoon," a soft voice spoke to the patient, and Harry immediately realized that it was Dumbledore. "A little birdie told me that you got hurt."

No voice answered his greeting.

"May I see your arm?" Dumbledore asked, and the patient lifted its - her, Harry decided after seeing the shape of the patient's body - she lifted her arm and Dumbledore's shadow gently took it in his hands. "Oh, dear," he quietly and airily said, "It's deep."

Once again, the girl did not answer him.

"Something happened, didn't it?" Dumbledore asked, and a sigh floated past the curtains to Harry's ears. "Could you tell me what happened at the library, Aurora?"

A strike of fear hit Harry upon the mention of that name, but he was surprised when her voice was weak and weary. "I don't know, Professor," she whispered. "It just . . . I don't know . . . my arm just got cut . . ."

Harry could almost sense Dumbledore smiling, but Harry himself was growing with disgust. Then a realization hit him - the library! Had she been spying on them?

Dumbledore's shadow nodded and softly released her arm. "How has everything else been going?"

"Miserably."

An airy chuckle escaped Dumbledore as he pulled up a chair. Harry continued watching as though it was a movie, not believing what he was witnessing.

"Why is that?" Dumbledore inquired, and Aurora sighed raggedly.

"Everyone hates me," she answered in a tone so sure that her voice tickled the back of Harry's throat.

"Now, now," Dumbledore said reassuringly, "That's not true."

"Yes it is!" Aurora suddenly exclaimed but her voice broke. It was not until this point that Harry realized that she was crying, but felt no sympathy for her. It occurred to him, however, that even if Aurora was being possessed by Voldemort, Dumbledore was watching over her. This gave Harry an unexpected sense of relief in Dumbledore's presence and his heart began to beat slower.

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore seemed as calm as a psychologist.

"All of my friends - " she broke off momentarily, "They hate me."

"Surely they don't, Aurora. Perhaps you're just weary and your mind is playing tricks on you."

"I told them! I told them and they didn't object!"

At this, Harry realized that she must've talked to Ron, and silently congratulated Ron for his decision. A soft sobbing, however, drowned his fleeting happiness, and Harry felt an involuntary twinge of sorrow and guilt.

"There, there," Dumbledore comforted, and Harry imagined Dumbledore's warm smile. "You're having a tough time, and you do need to cry. Otherwise, your feelings will be pent up and you'll find yourself doing things you never expected." Suddenly, Harry saw Dumbledore turn his head in his direction, and Harry felt like he was speaking to Harry as well. It was true; Harry hadn't had a good cry in a while. Out of nowhere, tears fogged up Harry's vision, but he blinked them back furiously as he gripped his pillow. His throat sealed up in a dry wave, and Harry tried to gulp moisture back into it.

"Go ahead," Dumbledore soothed, though Harry was no longer sure to whom he was speaking. "Go ahead and cry. No one will see your tears in here. You're safe. I'm here to protect you, so just cry and don't feel guilty."

Everything inside Harry whirled, and Harry felt his stomach clench emotionally at Dumbledore's words. He felt the tears coming again and his body began to twitch with involuntary and silent sobs, and this time he did not try to stop. His face buried in his pillow, he thought of Hermione and Ron and Dumbledore, and all of the horrible things happening, and within seconds Harry felt himself crying. His knees bent toward his stomach and his body quivered.

"That's right," Dumbledore whispered. "Weep to your weary soul's content."

So Harry found himself crying, his inaudible sobs underneath Aurora's soft whimpering, and the entire world seemed so wrong, and Harry wanted to reach out and grab the reassurance in Dumbledore's words. And for the first time in what seemed like centuries, Harry's feelings wept with him.

* * *

_End Chapter 20_

_School's out (FINALLY), which means I'll have tons of more time to write, write, write! That is, if you guys want me to continue. Please review!_

Answers to past reviews:

[Raine is Crazy]_: Wow, you must be the most enthusiastic reviewer I've ever come across! I'll have to add you to my list of people threatening to kill me. Hah! And I'm not a great author...I feel like I've lost a lot of inspiration. But oh well! I'll have a lot more time now to write, so expect updates to be much more frequent! Thanks for all of your reviews, they made my day!_

[Prof. Spider]:_ I'm glad you like the story, and thanks for reviewing!_

[Pandemonium Fox]: _Um...I'm not really sure how to answer that. Thanks for reviewing...I guess. :)_

[Laen]: _Ah, the neverending question! When is Hermione going to come back from the dead...it's actually going to be in the next few chapters, because believe it or not, I'm wrapping up this story. One more twist or two, perhaps four more chapters, and I'll be done! Thanks for reviewing!_

[Sister of Hermione]: _Hm...I wonder who this could be! Hey, let me think about it while you exist in a radius of..blah, something miles. Yeah, I screwed up that chapter...but I've kinda stopped caring about accuracy. Artistic license, people! Got one? ;)_

[Padfoot]: _Le gasp! Well, the dream was just to show Harry's guilt about Hermione's death, and it hints at the depression that is revealed in this chapter. The actual content of the dream isn't exactly important, it's just the fact that Harry's having such a dream that should be noted. Thanks for reviewing!_


	11. Chapter 21

_A special thanks to my co-writer, Hermione-kun, for her contribution to Aurora's character in this chapter._

**Chapter 21**

Upon a cut, blood is always spilled. Some fall victim to the wound's pain, like Aurora did. To these people, the flow of blood causes a flow of tears, symbolically emptying the soul of life and sorrow. But then there are others who see the twisting red snake upon their skin and spill a different kind of salt water, the kind of tears made out of disappointment and frustration.

These two reactions are governed by the person's view of life. Should the person be more or less satisfied with life, the suffering comes in the form of flaring nerves and clutching grips. Aurora had a will to live, and therefore suffered when her arm was cut.

But then there are others who are driven to madness, the madness that attacks the primitive will to survive that defines humans. The chains that bind them to healthy humanity are broken, and therefore they experience a cut with a different, emotional kind of suffering.

And one of these hopeless humans was named Hermione Granger.

Every breath she sucked in was withering and laborious, and somewhere in the back of her mind someone screamed. It flowed in through the window of her soul to her ears; a high-pitched one that sung in fear until it was suddenly cut off with a swift stroke. The stroke had been executed long ago, for a red slice ran through her arm, from her shoulder to her wrist. The bright line of blood slithered down her arm like a snake, tracing a straight trail of shining blood down her limb. The vein that ran across her wrist had been viciously severed, and the soft plat of liquid on the floor reached her satisfied ears. Her other quaking hand gently cradled a knife, stained forever with her own blood.

Her forehead was lined with glistening sweat, and her eyelids were shut to the engulfing darkness. Her wearily throbbing head leaned weakly on the wall. Her chest heaved and fluttered unsteadily, and her knees bent to draw closer to her face. Suddenly, she could feel the blood evaporating off of her skin, disappearing somehow. Without warning, she hurled the knife across the room, listening to the shriek of metal clashing against stone. Her eyes opened as the gazed down at the vanishing blood, frustrated with the undying strength within her that kept her alive.

_I want to die . . ._

Unexpectedly, she started to cry again, more ferociously than ever because her one possible salvation had gone. She had grown tired of waiting for her imaginary executioner. Life - not even life, more like shadowy and incomplete existence - in this room was torturing her, binding her with metal chains that cut at her skin and made her bleed, though the slashes never got to her wrist to snap her blue veins open and splatter blood across the floor. Yet this was all in her head, as she had imagined her death a million times.

But she didn't even know if she was alive to begin with. She didn't know what she was. As if to prove to herself that she _was_ alive, she needed to see the blood. And as if some cruel higher being wished to see her suffering, a knife had somehow appeared in the chamber. The candle had flickered in protest, but Hermione's greedy hands had snatched the knife within moments.

Now she had made herself fatally wounded, but her heart was still pumping at the same rate. She realized that she wasn't going to die. She had blood, but it wasn't human-like blood, and it proved nothing. Now all she could do was feel pain. Torturous but not murderous pain.

Her body shivered with this realization. _I'm just going to keep living in pain..._

"Damn it!" She screamed suddenly, surprised at the strain in her own foreign voice. The tears squeezed between the slits on the sides of her eyes and became uncontrollable waterfalls. She felt so empty inside, so lifeless, like a disgusting creature of the night. Immortality seemed her punishment. Her eyes darted to her arm, and found that there was no longer any blood; the deep wound had sealed up like a flower at night.

"For what?" She sobbed, the question pounding in her head with a rhythm to match her pain. "What did I do?" Her voice escalated in anger and despair, her voice bouncing violently off the walls. "What did I do to deserve this?"

No answer came, and no answer was expected, save the endless dance of the candlelight.

* * *

Outside of the ever dark room, dawn was caressing the earth with its warm touch. The activities of the day at Hogwarts began normally; the birds trilled happily, the house elves set to work on breakfast, the students attempted to shield their vulnerable eyes from the sunlight. And this day also began normally for Aurora, who became aware of a burning sensation on her eyelids. She tiredly opened her eyes to see a tinted color painting the room around her.

But the bright sight did not please her anymore. Not like it had when she was little. Back then, she jumped out of bed, bounded up the stairs in the glorious sunlight, and bounced upon her parents' bed to wake them up. Now, the dawn only jeered at her, reminding her about the imperfectness within her compared to the bright light.

_'You're such a parasite.'_

That young masculine voice haunted her, ever since her first year of wizarding school when she met the speaker. And today was no different; the insult relentlessly whirled in the back of her mind as she lay awake trying to ignore it. This was a battle she fought every morning, and she knew she would lose.

_Because it's true._

With a heavy sigh intricately laced with failure, her eyelids fluttered down, and her sheets scuffled above her bent knees. Her feet kicked upward, then sideways, so that her skin was exposed to the biting air. She shivered outside of the warmth of the sheets, and with a momentary rubbing of her eyes, her legs swung around the side of the bed to bring her to an upright position. Her head spun for one dizzy moment, as it did every morning, and she forced herself on the floor and dug in her bag for clothes.

_'You're always clinging to people, like a homeless puppy!'_

Her shoulder flinched involuntarily, and her breathing was interrupted by that same voice again. The voice of someone she had thought of as a big brother and had found reassurance in. The voice of the only guy she every looked up to, Nathaniel. Nathaniel, who later . . .

_I deserved it. I deserved what he did to me. _

Her hands fumbled around her bag before finding a small white flower tucked underneath. Her movements stopped, and she stared quietly at the flower and the memories that it held.

_The flower he gave me._

Her fingers gently pushed aside a dark sweater to expose the pure whiteness, and then delicately cupped the flower in her hands. It was no longer soft, nor beautiful, for three of its six petals were missing in odd places and the smoothness had long evaporated. Brown tinted the edges and the poor flower seemed beaten up, creased noticeably. It almost looked dead.

_Just like Professor Trelawny said. I killed it._

A heavy feeling settled in the bottom of her lungs as she recalled that day. That day when he made her realize what a parasite she was. She was wearing the radiant flower on top of her head.

_'Why do you still have that bloody piece of crap? I only gave it to you because I couldn't use it after the dance with Jessie!'_

He had ripped the flower out of her hair and angrily hurled it into a nearby wastebasket. It wasn't until after he had left that she pulled the flower out of the trash, sobbing quietly at its ruined beauty, and she kept it since then.

_I killed our friendship._

With one last, blurred look at the flower, she softly placed it back on the dark sweater and folded it in securely. It was as if she was trying to save what little part of the long lost friendship they once had. Though it represented the destruction of their connection, it was probably the most precious item she owned.

_I'm so stupid . . . How do I manage to mess up every friendship I ever have had a chance at?_

Vaguely choosing a dark Hogwarts outfit, Aurora tossed the clothing onto the bed. They only seemed like black puddles in her mind, for she was preoccupied. Tears threatened to distort her vision and she felt like crying, but a few deep breaths prevented that from happening. At least for now.

_And I did the same thing with Harry and Ron. But I deserve their hatred. I really did butt into their lives._

By now, she had been able to pull herself out of her pajamas, and shivered without the cold.

_It's just a cycle - a neverending cycle of my stupidity. I've never been able to stay friends for long with anyone. Not Nathaniel. Not Harry. Not Ron. _

Aurora immediately tore her train of thought apart. But that wouldn't help, Aurora knew. The thoughts would still haunt her, torture her, and she somehow needed to live with them. Somehow.

By this time, Aurora had been able to change into her clothes, though she remained as detached from her surroundings as possible. The logical part of her brain was telling her that she needed to go to the bathroom to prepare for the day, but the other part of her was swarming with depressed thoughts on a slightly different subject.

_I've screwed up before. Back at my old school, all the girls hated me, and I never realized why._ A frustrated sigh escaped from her parted lips, and her tilted head rose slightly to glare at her reflection in the mirror. A pair of emerald green eyes glared back at her from between black strands of hair, and she bent over the sink like she was about to throw up. With an unmatched ferocity, her eyes penetrated every foreign piece of her.

_Why do people think I'm pretty in the first place?_ Her eyebrows furrowed angrily at herself as she kept searching for an answer. _All I see is an ugly person. _

Her abnormally pale hand shot out to grab her wand to fix up her hair. But her eyes never left her own reflection. _My face should be plain to match my oblivious mind,_ she declared silently. Her free fingers balled into a tight fist and she felt the urge to punch the mirror.

For a flickering moment, her flaring eyes left the glass and wandered to find her wand. Suddenly, her life seemed to mean nothing, like someone else inside of her was giving up. It scared her, yet this feeling offered a lot of peace that she had long forgotten. The light thought penetrated her mind, the one that she had first encountered after she gave away a part of herself to get Nathaniel to not hate her, the one that had haunted the back of her mind, but the one that she never managed to fulfill.

_I want to die . . ._

These words weren't like the whimsical thinking that nearly every other teenager encountered. Besides some outside force seemingly torturing her, her life was so full of failures that suicide had crossed her mind several times before.

Yet she never found herself actually severing the connection; instead, she felt as if she was on the edge, hopelessly wishing that somehow life would get better. It was like waiting at a rainy bus stop: she kept watching for the bus to come, but for some reason she knew that the two lights would never enter her life again. Only loneliness accompanied her.

Even on such a basic level of cleanliness, she was isolated from the other girls. She felt dirty and used on the inside, and she knew that if the other girls found out about it, they would hate her even more. Yet their uninviting faces melted away into one big blur, a kind of melting pot of all the overwhelming imperfections that stood out starkly in front of her.

And she passionately hated every disgusting drop of it.

* * *

A certain young redhead nervously made his way to Dumbledore's office. The previous day, McGonogall had pulled Ron aside after class and told him that Dumbledore wanted to see him early the next morning. Though McGonogall assured Ron that it was nothing "dreadful", Ron could not help but worry.

Not that this was unusual for Ron.

As he reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office, it occurred to Ron that he didn't know the password. "Er . . ." he stalled at the door, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

_What could be a Dumbledore-y password?_ "Er, how about, 'half-moon spectacles'?"

Nothing happened, which made a worried frown grow on Ron's face.

"Um, what about, 'Dumbledore sent me'?"

Once again, the door did not open. _Well, that one usually works in the movies._

" 'We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Hogwarts'? 'I can give the teachers detention'?" The sides of his frown twitched and tugged into a light smile. Ron was beginning to enjoy this guessing game, despite the tiny problem that he was unable to enter, and his brain concocted the most insane possibilities. " 'Mister Congeniality'? 'If there's no Quidditch in heaven, I'm not going'? 'I am Albus Dumbledore, you killed my father, prepare to die'? 'I tried so hard, and got so far, but in the end, it bloody has to matter'? 'The fat lady needs Atkins'? 'I brake for Muggles'? 'I wish I could fire Snape'? 'I can kick You-Know-Who in the You-Know-Where'? "

A soft chuckle behind him made Ron's blood freeze. "Very clever, young Weasely, but I'm afraid I'm not that imaginative."

Ron spun wildly around to find himself gaping at Dumbledore's warm smile. His mouth opened, but no sound came out, and within seconds his pale cheeks dramatically darkened to match his flaming hair. Dumbledore nodded kindly, as if to signify that Ron was in no trouble, but that did not help Ron's now _very_ uptight composure. He had only been in Dumbledore's presence for two seconds, and he had already messed up. _Bloody hell, this is not going to be a good meeting..._

"Actually," Dumbledore's soft, wavering voice interrupted Ron's thoughts, "the password is 'lemon drops'. Very delightful candy, you know. But," Dumbledore added with a small smile, "I'll consider using one of your passwords next year. I must say, I'm fond of the last one . . . very flattering."

Ron's face darkened about ten shades so that his freckles were now barely visible.

* * *

"And so," continued Professor Snape, his hand toying with a bottle of glassy purple juice, "this potion is extremely dangerous and should be handled with equally extreme caution."

He was rudely interrupted by a particularly loud snore from Seamus, and the students were too sleepy to laugh. Snape's pale lips curled into an evil smile, and his palm slammed down on the table with a thunderous thud. Seamus woke with a start and a small yelp, then looked around with a confused look on his face.

"Ten points from Gryfindor," Snape smoothly said with a smile in Seamus' direction. Seamus turned a slight pink and buried his face shamefully in his textbook away from view. Snape surveyed the class carefully, as if challenging anyone else, and his lecture soon continued.

To Aurora, the facts and occasional slipped opinions blurred into a hollow groan, like the humming of a heater, in the back of her mind. Her quill scratched the scroll, not taking notes, but randomly twisting and turning aimlessly. The black ink had long stained the old paper and faded away, yet Aurora did not think of dipping it back in the ink bottle. In fact, as the quill skittered hurriedly across the paper, she was barely thinking at all. Only echoes whispered in her mind.

_' . . . parasite.'_

The scratch of quill against paper surged without warning, and her fogged green eyes rolled around the room. No tuft of red hair met her gaze, but she recognized the wild dark hair a few rows away from her. It was unmistakably Harry Potter, with his elbow propped on the table and his cheek resting against his fist. His hair obscured her view, but she could see his quill occasionally whirling across the paper, then stopping as his head rolled sleepily. She could spot it – a red jagged line on his forehead, the symbol of so much pain and suffering.

Her orbs shifted their gaze to the blotched parchment in front of her as more thoughts flickered across her mind. _He has a right to hate me like he does now. I just barge into his life and act so stupidly. Of course he's Harry Potter – the Harry Potter._

A wisp of her raven hair slid down her shoulder in front of her face, but she didn't reach up to brush it away. _He and Ron both should hate me . . . just like everybody does._

The black strands poked at her irritated eyes, urging tears onward. _Just like I hate myself._

_'Shut up, you brat. You talk too much.'_

Nathaniel's face floated in her vision, and she could see every detail perfectly. His curled, short hair artfully bleached on the top so that a single strand started brown and brightened to light blonde. His clear gray eyes, though never misty, that could be as soft as a cloud or as cold as a frozen lake. His flawlessly soft, almost feminine skin, the color of honey cake dipped in nectar, from all of the vacations spent on the beach. His pale, thin lips that could curl into a welcoming grin or, more fittingly for Aurora, a deadly fixed line. He was one of the popular kids, the ones who had been going out since first year and easily socialize with anyone. Nathaniel was not a pure "jock", but he was on the swim team – a champion, in fact.

In other words, Nathaniel was the coolest guy Aurora had ever met.

When they first met, as Aurora recalled, she was an oblivious first year at her old wizarding school. She had trouble making friends anyway, but going to an all new school and an all new life was even harder. She had girls who were acquaintances, but not friends. She couldn't talk to anyone at her school.

Nathaniel, at the time, was an experienced fifth year, a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. Aurora had first talked to him on the train – only for a few moments, to apologize for falling into his cabin where he and his girlfriend, Jessie, were getting comfortable. But just the fact that he hadn't ignored her, and had nodded with a forgiving smile, had made Aurora look forward to the school year.

_Not that he would remember when we first met,_ Aurora sourly assured herself. _He'll only remember how I always stuck around him. He was okay at first, and he actually listened to my stupid rants._

_Then, halfway through the year, he showed me how pathetic I was._

_

* * *

_

_'Do you ever shut up?' He had hissed with his gray eyes shut as he was bent over his homework, cutting __Aurora__ off with his demand. The empty classroom, a place Nathaniel frequently went for reflection and quiet time, made his voice echo slightly as it bounced off the walls. Aurora blinked at him, incredulity spreading through her veins._

_'What?'_

_'You heard me,' Nathaniel spat, now looking up and glaring at her. She had never seen him so angry – nor did she see any of this coming. The guy that she looked up to like an older brother was ferociously frowning at her. It scared her so much: the thought of losing his friendship._

_'I'm sorr - '_

_'Don't apologize,' he snapped with a low growl. 'It won't help. You already did the damage.' His piercing eyes flickered to her hair. ''Why do you still have that bloody piece of crap? I only gave it to you because I couldn't use it after the dance with Jessie!'_

_He jumped out of his chair with seemingly lightning speed, and his hand wrenched the white flower out of her hair and hurled it into a nearby wastebasket. His back was now facing her, his swirling orbs fixed on the wastebasket and every breath dangerously slow. He looked like he could hit something. __Aurora__'s mouth opened, but nothing could twitch her vocal chords._

_'It's your fault,' he declared, his voice rising with every word. 'Jessie dumped me because of you!'_

_Aurora__ couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had never considered herself a threat to the relationship between Nathaniel and Jessie – she actually admired their mutualistic and genuinely caring bond._

_Now, Nathaniel turned to her with a violent flicker upon his face. 'You're such a parasite.'_

_'Nathaniel,' __Aurora__ choked, tears now blinding her vision in terror. He paid no heed to her, and instead sat back down heavily, his forehead resting on his palm and his eyes drilling holes into his homework._

_'All you do,' he slowly let out, 'you cling to people like a homeless puppy. I'm sick of it!'_

_'I'm sorry,' __Aurora__ offered helplessly, trying to keep the tears from streaming down her face. 'I'm sorry, I know that it's all my fault, and I caused you all this pain, and I'm sorry!' Her foggy eyes searched his frozen face to no avail, and fear sealed her throat. 'Please,' she airily begged, afraid of losing the one person at the school who would listen to her. 'I'll do anything to make it up to you! Anything!'_

_Life returned to his eyes; he lifted his head, not to look at her, but to prop his chin on his clasped hand and gaze thoughtfully into the empty space before him. He did not answer immediately, and it looked like he was debating something in his mind._

_'Anything?' He slowly repeated, emphasis dripping from every syllable and vibrating endlessly on the walls. Aurora did not see what he was thinking, but she was desperate to earn his trust back._

_'Anything,' she whispered once more, her eyes now wide with a different kind of fear._

_Unbroken silence stretched between them, hanging delicately in the air, waiting to be shattered by the slightest twitch or most silent sight. Then, finally, Nathaniel smoothly crushed it, getting out of his chair and stepping firmly in her direction in an unreal, slow-motion movement._

_

* * *

_

"Miss Withertopp? Miss Withertopp!"

A dull voice snapped her out of her terrible flashback, and her body froze instinctively before she registered it as Snape. Her eyes flashed around the room uncertainly, and after a few seconds, a sea of familiar faces flooded her. She was still in class, but now everybody was staring wide-eyed at her. Her blood iced in her veins, and she looked down to see that her hands were trembling. A ragged but barely audible sigh slipped from her. _Oh god . . ._

"Are you all right, Miss Withertopp?" Snape towered threateningly over her, making her shrink back a little from his dark form. He peered half-inquisitively and half-amusedly at her, and Aurora did not respond, save for her uncertain glances around the room. All the students had her fixed in their gazes, and she caught the fleeting sight of Harry's icy glare before he turned his head away. She could feel the Slytherin's eyes bearing into her back, sending a subtle shiver up her spine, like someone had run his finger lightly up her back.

"Er," she stuttered in panic and deeply wished that she could just disappear. She felt herself shrink further into her chair under everyone's scrutiny. "Y-yes, I'm fine," she allowed herself to say, not daring to meet Snape's cold gaze. _What did I do?_ Suddenly, she sensed something wet on her cheek, and her eyes widened in horror when the salty taste met her lips.

Snape had moved away, for she could no longer feel the coldness of his presence. Instead, she was faced with the coldness of everyone's stare, and the deadly thought crossed her mind again as she felt herself on the brink of reliving the pain. She wanted to cease existing, to hide forever from all of these eyes that haunted her like evil hands that probed and poked her. She wanted to wave her hand and blot them all away – or even better, blot herself away.

A prickly feeling settled in her stomach and her throat sealed up as she suddenly felt someone's hand on her shoulder. Her body twitched in horror at the touch, and her head jerked up to see a blonde boy grinning over her.

"Professor," Malfoy slyly offered, his thumb now lightly running across the curve of her shoulder and making Aurora shiver with a sudden wave of nausea. "Perhaps I may accompany her to the Hospital Wing. She seems a bit . . . " he paused uncertainly, his eyes flickering downward in her direction. "Pale," he finished, his eyes now locked with Aurora's and his smile widening with a hidden intention. Her blood ran cold again, and she wanted to wrench herself away from him. But she couldn't – she had already drawn too much attention to herself, so she closed her eyes and silently prayed that Snape would say no . . .

"Yes, she does seem a bit pale," Snape repeated carefully, and Aurora's eyes shot open in horror. Snape gave her a small, not-so-reassuring smile, and in her panic Aurora glanced in Harry's direction. He wasn't even watching. _Of course he isn't . . ._

The hand on her shoulder tightened slightly and his other hand found her other shoulder, urging her upward. "Come on, Aurora," Malfoy whispered into her ear, making her hair tremble.

The light sound of his voice was soon followed by the rapid pounding of her heart in her ears, and the hair on the back of her neck prickled at the warm breath. She could almost feel him smile next to her skin, and another wave of nausea hit her as his left hand slithered down her arm, fingers gently curved, to grasp her wrist and help lift her off of the chair.

Despite her concealed disgust, Aurora silently rose up, her knees slightly trembling. A moment later, she regretted showing her weakness, and a silent gasp flowed into her as Malfoy's grip on her wrist tightened dramatically. His body shifted from behind her to beside her, and his right hand smoothed its way to her back, erecting a deep shudder on Aurora's part. A scream lodged itself in her sealed throat, but she couldn't let it erupt, so her lips pursed to keep it in.

Yet no one else noticed all of these details; to all the other students, Malfoy was simply helping her up. And not a single soul questioned his casual touch, as everyone knew that Aurora and Malfoy had in fact gone to the ball together. But every single step he took, every slight shift that he made, every breath that he sucked in scared her beyond words, and Aurora's head began to spin in helpless horror. It was as if his touch penetrated beneath her skin, plunged into her, and reached her exposed and quivering soul.

Her now frightened eyes glanced over her shoulder, and this time she caught sight of Harry's face. His unblinking and cold stare at Malfoy made Aurora gulp nervously, even though the ferocity in his eyes was not aimed at her. His hand had curled into a white ball around his quill, and his eyes suddenly shot a dirty and murderous look in her direction. Her breath was caught in her throat again as her once friend treated her with the same familiar hatred she had known for a long time.

But something was different about Harry's stare when it was fixed on Malfoy . . .

_It's as if he knows something that I don't . . ._

Malfoy must have seen her glance in Harry's direction, because the hand enveloping her wrist now tightened painfully. Before she had time to react, the hand on her shoulder pushed her almost violently forward, though he just hastily stepped forward to make it look like she had stumbled. Aurora turned her head to look at his face, and if Harry's glare had been murderous, the plastered smile fixed on Malfoy's face was like instant death. Malfoy's eyes flickered a warning before leading Aurora onward like an ill old woman.

Snape's cold voice gave Aurora's nerves another sharp snap. "Don't be long, Miss Withertopp."

Her dry lips parted soundlessly, and she faced Snape with a pleading look that was not received in his emotionless gaze. In response, she shook her head lightly, but it was Malfoy that gave Snape a crooked smile.

"We won't," the blonde boy assured Snape with an unvoiced twist on his playful words. Snape's visibly set jaw quivered slightly, and he fluently gave Malfoy a trusting smile that made Aurora feel sick again. Her head tilted downward to stare blankly at the floor, and her fragile body was on the edge of convulsing.

Malfoy slowly slipped in front of her, though not letting go of her wrist, and she noticed that his robes rustled purposefully against hers. He proceeded to open the door for her, like a gentleman, and even bowed a little with a comfortably curled smile underneath his nose. Aurora mustered a determined and disgusted frown, and when it faltered, her raven hair shielded her terrified look as she stepped quietly through the doorway. Malfoy swiftly closed the door behind her, and Aurora tried to shake his hand off of her wrist. It didn't work.

"So," Malfoy started quietly as though her unwillingness had gone unnoticed, "Aurora . . ." His free hand settled on the bottom of her back and slid skillfully up to her shoulder, making Aurora quake a little.

"Draco . . ." came her breath through clenched teeth, and she gulped audibly when he led her forward.

"Listen," Malfoy continued as if he hadn't heard her protest, "I'm willing to forget everything that happened at that ball. I know that sleazy Potter can be . . ." he paused as if searching for the right word, his eyes fixed upon her unresponsive face. "Manipulative."

Aurora lifted her head sharply in disbelief. She knew Harry would never do that. "What – "

"Let's just say . . . his hormones were doing the talking."

Aurora suddenly fell silent and bit her lip in nervous contemplation. _That could explain why Harry even bothered being friends with me . . ._ Her eyes widened as her mind registered that thought. _No! Harry's not like that!_

"No," she firmly objected, and anger began to bubble within her. Yet the slightest shift of his hand quenched that anger and replaced it with sizzling fear.

"You poor thing, he's still got his grasp on you." Malfoy clicked his tongue in disapproval, and a few of his fingers toyed absentmindedly with a crease on her robe, making Aurora's hidden lips twist suddenly. His words were barely penetrating her head; all she could sense now was his touch, and the prickling of hair beginning to stand up. "But don't worry." His voice lowered to a quiet whisper, and Malfoy leaned closer to her ear. "I'll protect you," the breeze tickled her ear and erected bumps on her skin. She felt a wave fly across her skin, like something was inching across it, and her shoulders hunched a little.

Only after a few moments of unintentional satisfaction for Malfoy did the brunette suddenly react. In her horror, her body jerked away from his, and her green orbs stared into his with less than sufficient anger.

"I would rather _he_ protect me from _you_," her strong foreign voice answered as if it wasn't her own. Her wrist tugged almost involuntarily in an effort to make him let go, but his grasp only grew painfully tighter like unbendable metal. "Ow!" Her left hand whipped out and grabbed his, trying to wrench him away, but now she felt like her right wrist was being bruised. Now she could feel the fluttering kiss of her pulse against his skin. "Draco, let go! You're hurting me!"

As her nails dug into his skin, leaving pink marks in their wake, she glanced upward and froze. His swirling eyes, half masked by strands of blonde hair, carried a somewhat familiar and passionate emotion that infected her blood with frantic quaking and clogged her breath in her throat. _Nathaniel . . ._

"Maybe," Malfoy hissed angrily, ignoring her panicking nails digging relentlessly into his skin, "it wouldn't hurt so much if you stopped resisting." His free hand shot out to grab her left upper arm, and her body convulsed violently in response. Terror froze her heart once more; she knew that Malfoy was a jerk, but not violent.

"Draco," her voice broke when she felt herself being pulled toward the warmth of his body, frightening her ever further. "Stop it!" The yelp erupted from her throat, and her teeth gritted in panic as her knee jabbed his stomach, causing part of his breath to be knocked out of him. Like a cornered animal, she tried to claw his wrist, but moments later she felt her bones crash into a wall behind her. Her cry of pain muffled his outraged curse.

"Listen to me, you bloody bitch!" Malfoy spat as his hands crushed her upper body against the wall, and his chest heaved with mad quivering. Aurora looked up and saw his eyes, whirling like two unstoppable storms, his breath hissing through exposed teeth like the wind. His body was only a foot away from hers, and her quivering palms pushed against his shoulders to no avail. "I'm a guy who always gets what he wants. So when I say I want you," he paused to let his mouth go crooked, "that means I'm going to have you."

She stared at him in utter disbelief, her eyes frantically searching for some sign that this was not happening, and her breaths became ragged with fear as he took one determined step forward. "No!" She cried out, and as if she was detached from her body and watching a movie in slow motion, she saw her own hand raise and fly toward his head.

_SMACK._

His head jerked to the side, his blonde hair twisting and falling. Aurora's eyes widened as she stared at his pale cheek, which within moments began to turn a darkening faint pink. A few moments passed in silence between them before Malfoy slowly turned his head in her direction and a gasp clenched Aurora's stomach. Murder was written in his eyes.

"You little whore!" He cried out in trembling rage, his voice thrashing her backward again. His grip on her upper arm and her wrist became deadly, sending shockwaves of pain up her arms as her body frantically tried to jerk away. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she fought blindly, her muscles straining to budge his hands off of her. For the next few moments, she could hear her own scuffling, the sound of robes disturbed, and the echo of their heavy breathing in the hallway. She could feel the warmth of his body edging closer, contrasting with the harsh cold bite of the wall behind her.

Suddenly, her body felt no hard support, and her green eyes flashed open as air rushed past her. In an instant, she crashed on the ground, her body jolting with pain. The hardness of the ground dug ruthlessly into her back and prodded her bones, and a pulsation sounded in her head. The dark ceiling muffled her vision, and moments later she recognized Malfoy's form towering above her. A sour frown perched on his face as he stared down at her like a child would regard a broken rag doll.

"Next time," Malfoy warned slowly, his words dripping with vicious venom, "I won't let you off so easily."

Within seconds he vanished from her sight, leaving behind a ruffle of his robes that sent an airy chill down Aurora's back. She felt no strength within her to rise, and her gasping struggled to tame her uncontrollable heart. Her wide eyes stared blankly at the foggy dark ceiling, somewhat detached from her surroundings, while her pounding knees curled helplessly toward her quaking chest. Her weak wrists still felt like Malfoy's hands were upon them, and as she painfully lifted to look at them, an ugly blue seeped across both wrists in the shape of his fingers like infectious poison right underneath her skin. In the light fading of footsteps and the following eerie black silence, one single word echoed endlessly and relentlessly in her throbbing head.

_Nathaniel . . ._

_

* * *

_

"Come, come, sit down, young Mister Weasely," Dumbledore invited with a welcoming smile after being seated himself. Ron couldn't help but gaze in wonder around the packed office for a few moments longer. All of the interesting little trinkets and colorful antiques aroused his curious side, and if Dumbledore had left him in here for another hour, Ron was sure he'd b e too busy looking around to notice.

Finally, the redhead sat down across from Dumbledore in a rather large furry armchair. However, Ron watched silently with astonished wide eyes as the furry skin turned to leather and the armchair shrunk to accommodate him.

"Now," the soft voice caught Ron's attention again, "do you have any idea as to why you are here?"

Ron looked up to see Dumbledore's tired and weak smile. It frightened him to see Dumbledore so closely. From afar, he was a strong and victorious leader, and undoubtedly one of the greatest wizards of all time. Yet from such a close perspective, baggy lines underlined his slightly reddened eyes, which sloped downward defeatedly and vaguely resembled a bloodhound. His body bent forward a little, with shoulders positioned as though carrying a great burden.

Ron caught himself staring, mentally chided himself, and vigorously shook his head in response to Dumbledore's question. A quiet gulp followed, nervously interrupting a potential silence which Dumbledore's voice broke within moments.

"It's not anything very specific." A small tired smile curled on Dumbledore's face. "How are you?"

Ron was taken aback by the question. He had been sent all the way down to the Headmaster's office just to be asked how he was doing? Confusion boggled his thoughts as Ron answered, "F-fine, er, sir."

Dumbledore waved away the formality with one visibly wrinkled hand and set his soft yet piercing eyes upon Ron again. With a reassuring nod of his head, he told Ron, "That's not what I expected. I expected a very different answer indeed. But if it is the truth, then that is truly wonderful."

Ron felt as though he had been cornered with such a soft voice and slowly shook his head.

"Tell me, what does that shake mean?" Dumbledore inquired politely, and yet Ron still felt like he was on the witness stand being interrogated.

Ron chose his words carefully, saying them in his head to make sure that they sounded right. "I'm not really fine," he finally let out, and instantly felt as if he had blurted out some secret.

Yet Dumbledore pressed no further and instead slowly turned his gaze toward an open window. The morning light danced upon Dumbledore's face, hiding in the curves and shining on his cheeks. In such a glorious presence, Dumbledore seemed ever weaker, and Ron grew ever fearful.

"How is Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly, waiting patiently for an honest answer as his eyes traced the flight of a black bird outside.

A short and airy sigh escaped from Ron, and he soon cut it off nervously. "He's not really fine either."

Dumbledore nodded his head understandingly, and Ron's eyes squinted at the glare violently flickering off of the spectacles. "There is no reason to be nervous," he suddenly responded, his tired orbs darting toward Ron.

After seeing the warm smile once more, Ron felt his muscles relax a little. A few moments stretched between them, and Ron's eyes focused on a loose string in the armchair. His fingers toyed with it for a while, distracting his tense body while his mind debated whether or not to tell Dumbledore the whole truth. Ron felt like there was a clogged dam within him, a dam that had been kept for a long time, and he needed to let it out. _But surely Dumbledore isn't the one I should talk to! I mean, he's nice and everything, but . . . _His hand collapsed on the arm of the chair, no longer playing with the strand. Harry's face floated in front of Ron, and his throat gradually opened up.

"It's like," Ron began weakly, comforted without Dumbledore's eyes watching his every move. "It's like he's a different person."

A sad look drowned Dumbledore's cheerful smile, and a sigh sucked up some of the air in the room. "What do you mean by that?" He urged Ron comfortingly in the absence of a continuation.

_Maybe I shouldn't tell him . . . but . . ._

"It's just that . . . he doesn't trust anyone anymore." The redhead recalled Harry's unexpected explosion in the library, and how much that scared him. "He's not the old Harry," Ron declared officially with a sudden firmness, no longer possessed by any feeling of guilt or nervousness. _Because it's true._

Dumbledore sadly nodded his head as if he had known all along. "A terrible loss may effect people in different ways." His blue eyes slowly turned back to Ron. "Do you know how Miss Granger's death effected you?"

The sound of her name, carefully avoided and unmentioned for so long, was now somehow piercing. Ron's eyebrows scrunched up a bit at the question, and he found himself without a definite answer, but instead a guess. "Well . . ." Ron said after a more comfortable silence, "I'm more protective now."

"Of course." Dumbledore came alive a bit more, but his whispering voice remained laced with exhaustion and age. "That is to be expected. You grew up in a family where everybody looks out for one another. You have many older siblings who always watch over you, while you have your own younger sibling to watch over." He slowed down a bit, with lots of emphasis on every word. "You're very protective of your young sister, aren't you?"

Ron was astonished at the accuracy of Dumbledore's analysis. Even he had never thought of his behavior in such a way. Speechless, he could only nod his affirmative.

"So, it's only natural that you become protective of your friends once you've lost one. But things are different with Harry, and you must understand this." Dumbledore slid further back into his chair, as if preparing to unleash a heavy burden, and then began.

"You were lucky. You grew up in a loving, trusting environment. Harry didn't have such luck. He was horribly mistreated by the only people he could call family, never knowing his mother or his father, and never with the support of friends. When he came to Hogwarts, he had to actually learn how to trust other people. Like you," Dumbledore pointed out with a smile, and Ron remained very silent in respect and a bit of sympathy. "He had to grow up with distrust, and he put so much on the line when he became friends with you and Miss Granger – Hermione. It was a strong bond that kept you three together, and after a while he stopped growing hesitant. But the instant that the bond is broken, his soul hides away, though he may try one last time to desperately reconnect."

Ron thought of the unstoppable teasing that had occurred only recently, followed by Harry's anger. Everything was making sense now.

"You see, Ron," Dumbledore leaned forward to emphasize his point, and Ron felt himself so drawn into his words that he barely even noticed that Dumbledore used his first name. "Believe it or not, your soul is actually stronger than Harry's."

Ron was shot backward by that comment. _Harry's been through so much more than I have! How could – _

"Let me explain," Dumbledore said, as if sensing Ron's disagreement. "You have already gotten over Hermione's death. That doesn't mean that you don't still think about it, or that the pain is no longer there. It simply means that you have subconsciously decided to move on with your life. You're not trapped in despair. That, unfortunately, is exactly where Harry's at. He purposefully avoids anything to do with Miss Granger's death, and when confronted with it, he becomes sore or attacks."

_Just like he was hesitant about talking to me about her during that discussion about liking her, and now he's started to attack in anger instead._ With every sentence that came out of Dumbledore's mouth, Ron felt safer and safer, knowing that the wisdom was not lost in such an ancient body.

"He is trapped, Ron. He is utterly and unmistakably trapped in her death." He paused for a moment, as if contemplating how to word something. "You have been around Dementors, have you not?"

Ron nodded silently, feeling the urge to shudder crawling up his spine.

"What does it feel like when they're around?"

A small pause preceded Ron's slow and careful answer. "It's . . . sad . . . dreary. Like they suck out all of the happiness in me."

The Headmaster tilted his head in approval. "Yes. Those are the words I was looking for. 'Sucking out all the happiness.' Do you know what else does this, Ron?"

The red-haired boy shook his head, the light beginning to dance like fire on his head.

"Depression."

The thought penetrated Ron's mind with difficulty, and even after a few moments, he refused to grasp it.

"Harry's in depression. What you feel like around a Dementor, he feels like every day deep within him. But he's not aware of it. It's too far inside of him."

"But, how can someone _not_ know when they're sad?" Ron asked suddenly.

"That's a good question," Dumbledore told him, "And I know exactly how to answer it.

"You see, Ron, there are three parts in a human: the mind, the body, and the soul. Each part speaks its own language, its own code that it uses in the person's lifetime. The mind and the body speak the same language. If you see a quill, and your mind wants you to grab it, your body immediately obeys. So fluently do the mind and the body communicate, that you barely ever have time to recognize the conversation.

"However, the soul speaks a completely different language, and this language is so deep that the languages of the body and the mind are like two words in the entire English language compared to the soul. And the soul keeps its language to itself, barely comprehended by the body or the mind. But sometimes, it happens. If your mind catches a bit of what the soul is saying, the result is a hunch, or intuition. Something you know is true, but you're not sure how. If your body catches a bit of what the soul is saying, it's an unexplained spark of emotion, like crying for no visible reason.

"Since the soul has such a different and unique tongue, we humans can barely ever grasp what it is saying. The very few who can are the happiest people in the world, because they have the opportunity to fulfill their deepest and most hidden desires. But such understanding takes years or an entire lifetime of training, and such hardworking people only come once every thousand or so years. Everyday people, like you and I, have not the time in this busy society to scope out our souls. So our souls remain secret and hidden to us.

"We have an idea of what happens in our souls. It's where much of our growth happens, and where much of the information is processed. But it's so hidden away that we can't sense anything inside our souls.

"Therefore, if a person is truly depressed, inside the soul, then he or she can not sense it. It is far beyond our reaches. And there are only two ways to bring a person's soul back to the light of happiness: by strong will or strong support from friends or family. Harry certainly hasn't the will, after the trauma he received from Miss Granger's death, and he's detached himself from others so that he can not receive the support he needs."

Dumbledore finally paused, surveying Ron's astonished and awed gaze. "Can you see the importance of the soul in a human?"

Ron immediately nodded his head, awed by such deep knowledge and understanding, and then felt like he needed to answer verbally. "Yes."

Dumbledore's warm smile returned, and he looked at Ron with a trusting and reassuringly strong set of face. "I'm sure I've lectured you enough. You should go to class now. Which do you have?"

"Potions," Ron answered with a grateful smile, almost forgetting the tangy taste of that word in his mouth. He stood up and found that his knees shook slightly from not standing in a while. "Thank you . . . sir, er, Professor, um – "

Dumbledore gave him a wide smile, and Ron instantly returned it with great appreciation of all the knowledge he just received. As he turned to leave, he heard Dumbledore's faint and foreign voice flowing to his ears.

"I promise you, Ron, if you are able to become more aware of your soul, then you can see its brightness, you can sense its emotion, and when you hurt, you can hear its silent scream."

* * *

_End Chapter 21._

_Next Chapter: __Aurora__'s secret finally revealed! Malfoy shocks all! _

_Author's Note: Hey all! I spent so much time just writing this chapter. Three straight days in my vacation spot – that's right, my vacation island, and I'm sitting on the beach with a laptop, my fingers burning from more than the sun. Ouch. But I had fun . . . yes, the Dumbledore speech was all my doing, thank you very much! Wow. If my legs could get as much exercise as my fingers just did, I'd be a marathoner. I know, not funny. But I tried. Once again, a huge thank you to **Hermione-kun, **who helped me so much with Aurora's thoughts and overall character. I don't know what I would've done without your help! Anyway, to all of you readers, please remember to review! Your feedback keeps me going! And now to answer the past reviews . . ._

[Laen]: _Eek, I made you re-read it? Sorry . . . I had the reason __Aurora__ got cut in this chapter. Notice how Hermione cut herself? Hm . . . suspicious, eh? Alright, thanks for reviewing!_

[HarryNDracosDarlin]: _I love the name! Ha . . . thank you very much for your generous encouragement! I have to say that I don't feel like I'm doing my best here, but I'm really glad you're enjoying it! To answer your question, Harry is going to find out __Aurora__'s secret next chapter! So, stay tuned! And about __Aurora__ being Hermione re-born . . . well, I'm not going to say that you're right or wrong. You'll find out soon enough. Thanks for reviewing!_

[Usha88]: _Yay, you're back! Yeah, school's pretty overwhelming, so I'm hoping to finish this story by the end of the summer. I did try hard to explain everything about depression and such, and I'm glad it paid off. Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you stay tuned!_

[Raine is Crazy]: _Ah, my crazy but amusing reviewer! Your reviews never stop making me laugh! Alright, now I take a deep breath to answer all your questions . . . well, about whether or not Harry like-likes Hermione, that's for the reader to decide, and I know what your answer is! Hermione's still in the Nesskrad Room, and it looks like she's going to become a ghost, and yes! Yes! There is a way to bring her back! Haha! But whether or not I let her come back depends on how many times I have an attempt on my life in the next few chapters. But I might decide to be mean and not bring her back anyway. Muaha! Thanks for reviewing!___


	12. Chapter 22: Part 1

_Author's Note: This chapter was so long that I had to split it up into two parts just to allow the computer to upload it! But trust me, it could've been longer; I've pushed some stuff off to the next chapter. Once again, a huge thank you to _Hermione-kun_, whose ending for one of the scenes I ran off of. Thank you! And to all you readers, enjoy! I spent a hell of a lot of time on this, so I'd appreciate some feedback. Thanks!_

**Chapter 22 – Part 1**

'**I** _w**a**_**N**na_ rU**n**_ **a**_wA_y, n**eV**_eR_ **S**_a_Y **g**oO_dB_**ye  
**i w**a**n_n_**A** **kn**_Ow_ t_H_**e** t_ruT_**h**, i**nS**_tea_D **o**f w_ond_E**rIn**g w**h**_Y  
_i **Wa**_nN_a **k**_n_oW _th_E **an**_Swe_R**s**, _n_**O** _mor_E **Li**_e_S  
_I_ w**A**_nn_a **sH**_uT_ T**h**_e_ d_Oo_**r**, a_n_D **oP**_en_ _u_**P** _M_y **m**_In_D . . . '

-Linkin Park, "Runaway"

* * *

It was a storm like England had never seen before. It came as swiftly as a river's current, but as it stretched over fields of waving grain and threw a dark veil on the most lightened cities, it suddenly slowed down. Muggle meteorologists were anxiously anticipating a storm unmatched in decades – in centuries, asserted the magical witches and wizards.

The clouds were ashy, almost black, towering ominously like a permanent curtain over the sky, forbidding the sun's peeking rays from ever touching the earth again. They choked and enveloped majestic mountains, striking fear into the hearts of magical folk and Muggles alike. Soundlessly, the storm closed in on the land, the humidity sending hearts aflutter in gasps. Like a toxic sea high above, it rippled and rolled the clouds along.

People, fortunately, had time to prepare. Flights were canceled. Brooms were stored. Bridges and highways were shut down. Everyone huddled inside houses, looking out the windows at the gigantic storm, and waiting for the smash of the storm.

So fittingly did this storm suit the foreboding events to take place at Hogwarts – piercing memories surfacing, reliving deepest horrors, unbreakable isolation, violent bloodshed – all to take place in one day, all to be timed by the storm.

Now, on the dreary morning of this terrible day, it seemed like the atmosphere was holding its breath, the perfect definition of 'the calm before a storm'. By this calm, Hogwarts tentatively awakened, as did all of its students and staff. Normal activities were slow and hesitant, and all eyes carefully darted to windows in anticipation. Not a drop yet, but the moisture was thick in the air. A great hand, poised in the sky to slap down on helpless mortals, patiently awaited the perfect time to unleash the perfect storm.

"Bloody hell, I can't believe this stupid weather made the paper!" The young redhead quickly rolled up the paper into a tight roll before tossing it back to Seamus.

"It's supposed to be a big one," Neville pointed out hesitantly, half of his egg in the corner of his mouth.

"No! Really, Captain Obvious?" Seamus' overflowing sarcasm accompanied his careless dropping of the paper. Without another glance at Neville's hurtfully twisted face, Seamus stabbed his slice of ham with his fork and spoke seriously. "You think they'll cancel the Quidditch match?"

"Definitely," Ron vigorously nodded, attempting to swallow his egg whole. "They've been closing up all over this country. Fred told me that he and George couldn't even get their daily issue of _Tricksy__ Tricksters Tips_ out. The owls are all being kept inside today." One side of his mouth quirked up sadly. "It's too bad about the match, though. I was really looking forward to seeing Harry kick some major Slytherin butt."

The referenced brunette vaguely lifted his head at the mention of his name, but one moment later, his eyes focused threateningly. "Yeah," Harry agreed immediately, and his violently lit eyes flickered toward Malfoy at the Slytherin table. "I was looking forward to that, too."

Neville had overcome his embarrassment by now, and turned his head toward Ron. "Hey, by the way, why weren't you at Potions yesterday?"

"You missed my ferociously loud snore," Seamus added proudly before his smile soured. "Snape took off points for that."

A loud choking sound sent orange juice spraying across the table, unfortunately aimed at Seamus. Ron's hand quickly shot to his mouth to block the flow of liquid from his mouth, the other hand hastily grabbing a napkin. "Ron, what was that?" Seamus exclaimed, grabbing a huge stack of napkins and rapidly wiping his face. "Disgusting!"

"Sorry," Ron apologized with a large smile, the napkin now in a wet heap on the table. "It's just that – " An equally loud laugh escaped him again, and he found himself unable to breathe. "You . . . you snored? Oh, god . . . that's excellent!"

Neville seemed a bit impatient with this interruption, and his voice cut in before Seamus could thank Ron. "Anyway, where _were_ you?"

Ron's posture immediately straightened, though he attempted to casually return to his breakfast. "Dumbledore."

Neville and Seamus gave Ron an inquisitive and partly envious look, which made the redhead feel a bit proud. But a glance to his side instantly dissolved the momentary amusement when Ron saw Harry's emerald eyes glaring piercingly at him. "What?" In the absence of an answer from Harry, Ron hastily continued. "He sent for me the day before. I didn't go to him. And he just lectured me about stuff – souls, minds, that kind of crap."

It pained Ron so much to lie about Dumbledore's thrilling wisdom by saying it had been crap, because that was the farthest thing from his mind. In fact, he had lain fully awake in bed last night, thinking about everything that he said. But he desperately needed to stay on Harry's good side. And Ron still wasn't sure of how Harry would react if he told him about what Dumbledore said.

Harry still seemed a bit uneasy and distrustful, but apparently accepted Ron's answer, lowering his gaze to his untouched food. Ron felt the urge to say something to him, perhaps something to make him feel better, but had no time before Seamus intervened.

"You all right, Harry? You seem upset about something."

The question did not affect Harry's murderous glare, which lifted to aim at the Slytherin table once again. "Nothing. I'm fine," he answered a bit sharply.

A wide grin instantly grew on Seamus' face. "Is someone jealous?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed in threatening confusion at the possible implications of that question, and Ron's heart began to pump faster when the memory of Harry's explosion at the library came to Ron's mind. "Jealous? Why would I be jealous? Of who?"

Seamus apparently did not take Harry's glare seriously, because more of his shiny teeth were exposed. "Of Malfoy, for the way he had his hands all over Aurora."

"Oh, god," came Ron's almost inaudible gasp at that comment, both out of fear of an assured explosion from Harry and from the news itself. _Malfoy's__ father is a Death Eater, and with Harry's idea that __Aurora__ is being possessed by Voldemort, he'll be outraged at the thought of having any sort of interest in her . . . _Ron turned his head carefully and fearfully to the side to see that Harry's face had twisted in unmistakable fury. _Oh, god – _

"Jealous? Jealous!" Harry's hands curled into trembling fists, and Ron's stomach felt like Harry had just clenched it with one of his grips. As Ron braced himself with closed eyes, Harry's voice rose to be heard over the usual mumbling of the Great Hall. "Like hell! That slimy son of a bitch can do whatever he wants with her, for all I care! They both deserve each other!"

With full-blown trembling anger, Harry leapt to his feet and stared murderously at Seamus. Seamus' eyes were so wide in fright that they seemed to bulge out. Harry looked like he was about to kill someone.

"H-Harry," Seamus croaked nervously, but this did not tame his rage. Harry looked like a rapid and snarling dog, and with a low growl he took a step forward.

"How dare you – "

Ron's breath caught in his throat as he hastily scrambled to his feet beside Harry. "Harry!" Though he was as fearful as Seamus, Ron's pale hands shot out to grab a shoulder before Harry could lunge at Seamus. His mind whizzed silently, scrambling to find a way to calm his best friend down. "Come on, he isn't worth it!" Harry's quaking body had attempted to jerk out of his friend's hands, but Ron darted in front of him to block his view, now with both hands placed on both shoulders. "He's not worth it, Harry, let's just get out of here!"

Though Harry never even looked at Ron, his body stopped struggling, though his deathly glare was still aimed at Seamus. Encouraged by this sign, Ron immediately proceeded to gently pull Harry back and toward the exit. "Come on," Ron breathed reassuringly as Harry slowly heeded Ron's touch, his black cloak swishing along. With one last dirty look at Seamus, Harry bent his head downward, his eyes hidden from sight, and followed a very relieved Ron out of the Great Hall. They were followed by the rise of murmurs, and they could hear Seamus' astonished whisper, "What the hell's gotten into him?"

A careless and quick surveillance of the Great Hall informed Ron that quite a few students were staring at them, drilling holes into their backs. However, a disgusted frown grew on Ron's face when he saw a confident and ecstatic grin from Malfoy. As Ron tore his eyes away from the disgusting Slytherin, he caught a fleeting sight of Aurora. Her green eyes were watching them from a distance, and her hand hung limply in front of her mouth, tear streaks visibly leading downward and behind her hand. A twinge of sympathy once again aroused Ron, and he considered giving her a sympathetic smile, but decided against it as Harry's unquenchable thirst for any outlet crossed his mind.

As the pair stepped out, Ron became anxious to shift the attention away from Seamus' comment, and therefore immediately inquired of Harry, "What happened with Malfoy in Potions?"

Harry's breathing began to slow, though his strung muscles did not loose their tension in the process. The redhead let go of him, afraid that any physical contact would for some reason set off some sort of alarm, and concentrated on Harry's slow and deliberate answer.

"Everything was going normally until Aurora started sobbing. No one noticed it at first, but then it grew louder, and everyone could hear it."

With Ron's curious mind now unshakably set on the intriguing story, his red eyebrows furrowed slightly. "What was she crying about?"

"I don't know," came Harry's comfortably calm admittance. At this point, Ron no longer felt as if he were treading on egg shells; Harry seemed controlled with his anger and was talking to Ron as trustingly as they used to.

"Go on."

"So then Snape asked her if she was okay, and that little – " A deep breath interrupted the dull sound of Harry's voice, and Ron saw him close his eyes. After a moment, the story fluently continued. "She told him he was fine, and then Malfoy volunteered to help her to the Hospital Wing."

"For crying?" Ron repeated in disbelief, but Harry's determined eyes gave an unvoiced answer to that inquiry. _Harry thinks she was being possessed . . ._

"So they left," Harry finished non-dramatically, though his twisted face painted another ending to the story.

_I really doubt that __Aurora__'s possessed . . ._ Ron gazed nervously into his friend's face, which suddenly lifted to reveal a fixed frown. _But Malfoy helped __Aurora__ . . . that seems like such clear-cut evidence! But . . . she's innocent . . . _

"So, you think Malfoy's working to help Voldemort inside the school?"

A quick nod of Harry's head gave his affirmative, but something else flickered behind his masking dissatisfaction, something Ron attempted to identify as hesitation. Trust seemed to grow back its old roots in his best friend, at least for the moment, and Harry's voice lost its firmness.

"But there's something I don't get."

"What's that?"

Harry's locked gaze faltered unexplainably and stumbled toward the polished floor. The bright effulgence gave a new light to Harry's eyes, which had lost their spark long ago, as the light flickered to the rhythm of Harry's wandering orbs. He was definitely debating whether or not to tell Ron something. "Harry, what is it?"

"It's . . ." After a short breath, Harry seemed ready to tell Ron, though he did so hesitantly and carefully. _Just like Dumbledore said . . . he's not trusting anyone. Even me._ The unpleasant thought sent a vicious slap on Ron's face, but as usual, he attempted to keep his pain hidden. Oblivious to Ron's hurt, Harry's slow process of telling Ron continued uninterrupted. "It's that, Malfoy's been . . . hinting."

"Hinting? At what?"

"Er . . ." Harry's awkwardly swinging shoe made a sharp screech on the ground, making Harry flinch at the piercing sound. "He's only done this in private, with me, but . . ." A sigh served as a thoughtful pause. "He's been hinting at doing . . . you know . . . with Aurora."

"About her possession?"

Harry immediately shook his head, leaving Ron without the smallest clue. "Then what?"

"Well . . . it's kind of hard to say . . ."

The shiver of fear crawled up Ron's spine. Harry, the furiously vengeful Harry, was completely hesitant about saying this. _It must be something horrible . . ._

As if to confirm Ron's thought, Harry slowly leaned in and finally whispered it. Not only did Harry's close breath send chilly bumps across Ron's neck, but the actual thought itself scared him even more. "No way!" Ron immediately tore himself away from Harry, searching his face frantically for some sign that this was a sick joke. But Harry's face was as set as stone, and meanwhile Ron felt like vomiting. "You're kidding!"

"No, I'm not."

"Oh, god . . . th-that's . . . that's just low . . . and horrible!"

"I know," Harry hastily said, apparently eager to move on and relieved to have told someone else. "But the real question is, why would he want to do it? I've mauled over it." A frustrated breath spilled out of him. "But I can't figure it out."

A thought sprung unexpectedly into Ron's mind, a possible explanation despite his apparent disgust. Though he sincerely was doubting Aurora's possession right now, with the image of her drowning, innocent eyes floating on the surface of his memory, he felt his obligation to keep Harry's trust to be much more valuable than the truth itself. "Maybe," Ron offered slowly and unsurely, "Maybe You-Kno – I mean, Voldemort . . . thinks that you're still friends with her, and – "

Realization struck Harry like lightning with those few words, and he quietly finished Ron's sentence. "And he said that he would torture all of my friends – ugh, why didn't I think of that?"

One of Ron's heartstrings uncontrollably sang like some hand had plucked it, sending an invisible shudder of sympathy through his body. A tiny, nagging question surfaced in his mind, and though Ron desperately tried to silence its cry, the question ate away at him as it begged to be released. After a few more moments of irritating persuasion, Ron allowed the idea to flow out of his mouth.

"Harry, why do you hate Aurora so much? I mean, it's obvious that you'd hate her for her connection with Voldemort, but why do you hate _her_?"

The same emotion swirled in Harry's eyes as it did a few minutes ago, and Ron instantly regretted asking the question. Feverish anger was taking over Harry again, and every part of him became subservient to its reign.

"I don't think you understand, _Ron_," Harry spat out slowly and viciously, as if every word was covered with poison. "Inside that girl is the man who killed my parents and my best friend. Inside that girl is the man who has taken pleasure in torturing me and my friends. Inside that girl is the man I'd give anything to kill. And Aurora must have sided with him somehow in order to allow him to harbor in his body, so I hate her as much as I hate him."

"Well, of course," Ron attempted to calm Harry down by agreeing honestly, "And I hate him as much as you do – "

Something sharply took over Ron, and after two seconds, he forgot his fear of Harry's anger. It was only one name, but it set off an unmatched flare inside Ron's body that transformed Harry's explanation into a direct and deep insult.

"What about Ginny?" Ron slowly let out in a low tone.

The brunette cautiously looked up, as if surprised by Ron's sudden anger. "She has nothing to do with this."

"You say that Aurora must be evil for harboring Voldemort. What about my sister?" The unthinkable was happening in Ron's mind. He had sworn that he would never turn on Harry with such anger, yet this contradiction was so plain and ran so deep that Ron forgot this promise. "My sister harbored Voldemort in her body the first year she was here. Tell me, Harry, does that mean that she's _evil_?"

Harry's eyes narrowed into threatening slit-like structures. "That was completely different."

"How so, Harry?" Ron stepped forward challengingly, with years of blood bondage to his sister flaming protectively. Blood had turned into indestructible fire. "How is Ginny different from Aurora?"

"Because Ginny didn't know what was going on with her when Voldemort possessed her. Aurora does."

"And what makes you so sure of that? What proof do you have that Aurora knows exactly what Voldemort's doing to her?"

Unable to find a definite answer, Harry instead dug deeper into Ron's interrogation. "Why are you defending her?" The question came with an honest desire for an answer, and Ron was more than happy to give one.

"Because she's innocent," Ron finally and officially declared, his bottled and carefully hidden annoyance at this entire accusation now coming through. "You haven't bothered to even acknowledge her existence, besides saying her name, after you got this idea about Voldemort in your head."

"It was your idea in the first place!" Harry suddenly exclaimed, viciously turning again on Ron.

"I was wrong, okay?" Ron returned with just as much volume and ferocity. "Listen, the day we spent in the library, Aurora got hurt."

"I know that," Harry snapped, "I was in the Hospital Wing while she was there. She hurt her arm, and she didn't know how. It's just more proof that Voldemort's possessing her, Ron. _He_ did that to her."

"No he didn't!" Ron asserted confidently and angrily. "You heard about the injury, but you didn't see how scared she was. I had to walk her to the Hospital Wing, and all that she said was that we have the right to hate her – "

"Damn right," Harry hissed.

"Bloody hell, Harry, just listen! It's guilt about herself, it isn't a warning about Voldemort – she's too weak to harbor Voldemort! She cries too often and she's always on the brink!"

"It's called pain, Ron! He's eating away at her!"

"No, it's her weakness from the start!"

"God, Ron, don't you remember how happy she used to be without Voldemort?"

"She was never truly happy!" Ron concluded with a frustrated yell.

Harry suddenly stepped backward, not in fear, but in distrust. "How would you know that, Ron?"

Ron stopped abruptly, realizing the outlandishness of his declaration. He had allowed his emotions to overpower logic. "I don't – "

"Have you been closer to her than I thought?" Harry whispered accusingly, and his anger suddenly dissolving into sour pessimism with a hint of hurt.

"No, Harry, I haven't," Ron quietly and honestly answered. As he looked into Harry's suddenly glazed emerald shine, it occurred to him that they were on the brink of losing their friendship. They had never argued so heatedly, and the resulting burns were throbbing.

"I never thought, of all people – " Harry quietly broke off, biting sadness beginning to grip his voice and break it. His face jerked away from Ron, hiding his eyes safely behind his messy hair, and a lump protruding in his throat rolled down and up once. "I never thought that you would betray me."

In a futile attempt to blot out Harry's distrust, Ron panicked. "No one has betrayed you, Harry! I'd never do anything like that – you believe me . . ." Ron's voice dropped in uncertainty as he looked at Harry desperately. "Don't you?"

Harry did not answer Ron's question, but instead sarcasm slowly seeped into his weakening voice. "I suppose _you_ can explain what happened with Aurora's arm in the library, or why the son of a Death Eater's suddenly after her. You seem to be very close to her."

The fear drawn out of Harry's accusation seeped into Ron, and out of his desperate desire to keep their friendship, his voice elevated drastically. "Goddamnit, Harry! I'm not close to her! The only person I'm close to is you!"

"Not anymore," Harry nearly inaudibly declared, giving Ron a misted look of betrayal that showed this was hurting him as much as it was hurting Ron. He slowly began to turn away, and the sight made Ron's stomach twist violently. He was losing his best friend.

"Wait!" Ron cried out as he started to walk away. "Harry!"

"Bye, Ronald," Harry quickly and painfully tossed over his shoulder as he disappeared around a corner. Ron just stood there in complete shock, watching the spot where Harry was standing just a few moments ago. It had only taken one minute, but Ron's worst nightmare was coming true.

_He's never called me . . . _Ron began to feel the deep, gnawing sense of loneliness, much deeper than what he ever experienced in the library after Harry left. Because this time, it was really abandoning. Somehow, Ron knew he couldn't do anything to change Harry's mind. Not even the truth could bring Harry back.

Ron's throat sealed up and a heavy, defeated feeling of rejection settled in the bottom of his stomach. He felt as helpless as he had in his dream long ago where he was invisible while Harry and Hermione had ignored him. He could feel the stinging in his eyes as a picture suddenly floated in front of him on the floor.

It was a picture of the three of them – Harry, Ron, and Hermione – taken before the tragedy at Hogsmeade one snowing day. Each of them was bundled up, with choking scarves around their necks and frozen mist blowing out of their noses. Hermione was squished in the middle, between Harry and Ron, with her eyes sparkling and a wide grin on her face. Ron was bending backward, with Hermione's arm holding onto him, and sticking his tongue out in the air to catch snowflakes. Harry was laughing and his face was twisted upward, the snowflakes melting in his mouth. When the picture moved, Ron swallowed a snowflake while Hermione laughed at his silliness, and Harry gave the camera a huge grin.

A lump of vile formed at the back of Ron's throat as his memory wandered back to the eve of Hermione's death. He had been so helpless, so useless, as Hermione died. He couldn't move to save her, though his body tried as hard as humanly possible against the petrifying curse. She was sitting right there, just out of his reach, taking her last ragged breaths, and all he could do was watch miserably, tears of disbelief streaking down his face.

_Just like now,_ Ron thought sadly, his eyes blanking out on the floor so it turned into a blur. _I feel like I can't move. And now . . . _

Harry turned his head back to grin at the camera with a small chuckle. _Harry's gone._

And as if right on cue, the crowd of students poured out of the Great Hall, flowing around Ron like a river around a rock, but completely oblivious to the rock's eroding in despair.

Outside, through the now foggy windows, the first few raindrops of the storm had begun to fall to earth.

* * *

Midday passed, and the rain had ceased as quickly as it had started, shattering the numerous predictions of the storm stopping by nightfall. This drew another cloud of fear over the people, for they could not react to a disaster while sleeping. Yet others were completely calm about the whole ordeal – many at Hogwarts were just so, for after being attacked by several monsters and being saved by the invincible Dumbledore, the majority of the students felt themselves in good hands. Therefore, thoughts revolved not around the weather, but instead around personal dilemmas. And these thoughts would become the catalyst for a psychological tornado inside Hogwarts.

Unknowingly, Aurora would play a huge part in this tornado. But at the moment, nothing seemed to penetrate her mind. Throughout classes, she remained hidden and unnoticed, and now at lunchtime, she journeyed up toward the Gryfindor tower, thoughts whizzing in her head.

_'That slimy son of a bitch can do whatever he wants with her, for all I care! They both deserve each other!'_

The words had reached Aurora's ears with a singing sting and sent rolling tears down her cheeks. None of the other girls noticed, as expected. She had ashamedly lifted her hand to block her tears from sight and had unintentionally caught Ron's eye before he and Harry left. Ron had seemed soft, too soft in fact, for Aurora had anticipated glaring orbs to match Harry's outrage.

"You!"

Partway up the grand staircase, Aurora's head whipped around to see a girl below her. The girl, whom Aurora recognized as Pansy Parkinson, raced up the staircase in a huge rush to catch up with Aurora. Puzzled as to why Pansy would want to talk to her, she stood on her step, waiting patiently for the Slytherin girl to get there.

"Er . . ." Aurora started awkwardly as Pansy's pug-like face appeared next to her, "Hi?"

"Don't 'hi' me, you bitch!" Pansy suddenly spat viciously, making Aurora nearly step back in shock. "I've wanted to do this for a long time!"

Out of nowhere, a pale hand materialized and smacked Aurora's cheek. A stinging sensation leapt through the entire side of her face as her dark hair danced like black water in the momentum. Aurora's breath came out as a surprised gasp of pain, and her hand quivered as it reached up and gingerly touched her sore cheek. She turned back to Pansy in disbelief to find that the Slytherin girl was hissing her breath through gritted teeth, and her eyes were fogged with unshed tears.

"That's for taking Draco away from me!" Pansy shrieked with passionate hatred as one tear silently rolled down the side of her face. "He was – " In an explosion of uncontrollable emotion, helpless sobs violently rattled Pansy's body before she could even finish her furious fit.

A paralyzing lack of comprehension prevented any words from forming in Aurora's throat as the girl in front of her wept loudly. After life returned to her veins, she still found herself in immobile astonishment. Swallowing a cold lump of air, Aurora was sharply reminded of her brutal encounter with Draco, and understanding flooded through her. Yet she could never imagine the fact that she had taken him in any way; his frozen stare had iced Aurora's insides, and she would do anything to shift his torturous gaze to any other girl. And here was Pansy, weeping her empty heart out for this boy, and Aurora could feel her own eyes glaze with guilt. "I'm sor – "

"Just shut up!" Pansy cut her off sharply with a furious choke, and her pink eyes mustered any hard look left on her tear-streaked face. Her salted lips parted to deliver one final blow that hit Aurora right in the center of her chest. "I – I hate you!"

With that cry of defeat, Pansy leapt blindly down the stairs, her face buried deep in her hands as she nearly tumbled the last few. Aurora's dry throat sealed up at Pansy's harsh words, and her head shook almost involuntarily. "No . . ." As Pansy disappeared, Aurora's memory resurrected the image of Jessie, the girl who, four years ago, had shouted almost exactly the same words without warning.

_'You took Nathaniel away from me! I hate you!'_

And this time, the raw feeling inside her gut did not lessen its ripping pain. Neither with Pansy nor Jessie did the thought of seduction of their boyfriends even cross her mind as a fading ghost. She would never dream of such emotional backstabbing; she herself knew how deep inside pain could dig, and her memories of nights spent in tearful pain flashed through her mind again. This time, the blonde boy was not Nathaniel; it was Draco.

_Oh my god . . . How do I manage to mess things up so badly without even trying? How could this happen twice?_ No possible explanation surfaced in her mind that did not include scarring insults aimed at herself, and her stomach clenched tightly as she remembered the frightening look on Draco's face, his iron-like grip, and relentless pursuit like a hungry predator . . .

_I'd die before thinking about being with him! God, I wish I could just blot his face from my memory! _Sourness slowly replaced fear in her unvoiced thoughts. _But thanks to my stupidity, I managed to get his attention anyway! Why am I always so oblivious?_

"Password?"

These deeply throbbing thoughts pounded away at her so badly that she didn't even notice that she had reached the entrance to the Gryfindor tower. The fat lady's irritated glare did not help to settle the swirling in the bottom of her stomach.

"Er – goblet finch," her mouth unconsciously replied out of habit, though her mind was somewhere far away. As the door swung open, the movement of air hit her straight in the face, tickling her now sensitive eyes so that tears almost squeezed out. Without any further hesitation, she sprung forward, racing blindly in and up the stairs, desperately wanting to be in her room.

_How could I have been so stupid? I wish I could just disappear from here! I never should've come in the first place! No, it doesn't matter where I go, I'll always be the same. Everyone hates me, and they should._

A hurried gasp interrupted her thoughts as she realized that she was standing over her bed. She watched her hands shoot out and mindlessly grab her Potions textbook as well as snatch the white flower she had hidden. As she glanced down, horrible memories threatened to toss her miserable form on her bed, but she knew that she couldn't do that.

_I can't be in here. There's no one in the Gryffindor common room . . . I'll stay there._

In a mad dash, she ran out the dormitories, not encountering one single soul who would be willing to miss lunch as she was. Only when she stood over an armchair did she suddenly sense the stretch of her searing muscles, the raspy breaths that made her sound like she was drowning, and the mad pounding of her heart in her ears. Her body collapsed, nearly missing the chair, and she slumped backward with her eyes closed, trying to control herself.

After a few moments – or twenty minutes, she couldn't tell the difference – her eyelids fluttered open and she gazed down. Due to her horrible clumsiness, the flower had lost yet another of its three remaining petals, making it look uglier than ever. Tears now rushed to her swollen eyes and flowed down the side of her face as the metaphor of the petal struck her.

_I'm losing my friends again. No, I've already lost them._

Her shivering fingers tipped the flower toward her nose, and as she inhaled, no smell infested her nostrils. At this, a sob jerked her body, and her hand reacted desperately to keep the friendship – it tenderly placed the flower upon her head, just like it did four years ago when she had a smile on her face.

With that vaguely resolved, her fingers turned to the Potions textbook. She flipped through the pages knowingly, looking for page 158. She got there, and tucked between the two pages was a familiar photograph and an old letter. The photograph was turned over on its backside, and so her hand sought the letter first, unfolding it gently as her eyes soaked in the words that became too familiar.

_'Miss Aurora Withertopp,_

_It is urgent that you depart for Hogwarts immediately. You will be informed of the reason upon your arrival – '_

She could read no further, for her tears blurred the scratched letters into black blurs. Folding the letter back up, she put it back in the textbook, and instead she cautiously turned over the photograph. It was of her and another girl, and the happiness that they shared, and the sight of their grinning faces her body convulsed with uncontrollable gasps and sobs.

_I need to get away!_

She shot up out of the chair, the textbook tumbling down toward the ground as she leapt away. Her body collided with the Gryffindor door, and after she stumbled through with a helping of curses from the disturbed fat lady, she raced out of sight toward any empty classroom – the haven Nathaniel used to retreat toward, and the one she needed right now.

Outside, thunder clapped approvingly in the far distance.

* * *

"Oh, god, did you hear that?" Neville whispered anxiously at the dinner table after the thunder reached their ears.

"Yeah," came Lavender's interrupting voice, sending a wave of irritation through everyone except Harry and Ron. The secluded pair was eating silently at opposite ends of the table, each not daring to look up and face each other and keeping their faces instead stuffed. Harry's previous glare had silently ordered the rest of the boys to shut their mouths about the situation, so Harry and Ron had time in personal and unbroken peace.

"Wonder how bad it's gonna be," Seamus thought aloud, grabbing a goblet of pumpkin juice to cover up his nervously shaking hand. "Look outside. It's darker than any night before. Hell, I've never seen anything this bad."

Neville nodded quickly, with a quiet and barely audible "yeah".

"But I'm sure it'll be okay . . ." Seamus offered uncertainly, taking one serene sip. After a quiet gulp, he continued. "After all, it's just a storm, and we're all witches and wizards. What could possibly happen?"

Yet he was about to be severely contradicted, for Dumbledore had risen out of his chair to speak. Sensing this to be about the storm, the entire Great Hall quieted without protest, each wanting to hear the news.

"I'm sorry for disturbing your late meals," Dumbledore apologized with a not-very-reassuring smile. "But, as all of you can see, there is quite a storm brewing out there. And all of the staff and I have agreed that, as a safety precaution, all students should be ushered to the dormitories."

A loud buzz of murmuring washed over Dumbledore's words, the students now afraid of the storm. A few even stood up to leave at that point. Harry's and Ron's eyes both widened in surprise at the announcement, though each remained as immobile, while Neville spilled his juice all over the table.

Dumbledore held out his hand commandingly to gain attention again, and though reluctant, the students obeyed and the murmurs vanished. "By no means, however, should any of you panic. This is merely a safety precaution, though no true danger lurks in the clouds out there. We simply ask you to finish your dinner at your own pace and calmly exit to your towers. No need to do so in an orderly fashion; in fact, I believe that the traffic would be better if each of you simply left at your own time. So, please, enjoy your meal, and do not worry."

Dumbledore sat back down in an unsure hush. He had not explained the reasoning behind why they were going to the towers, as he would usually. It was probably a simple case of forgetfulness, but it only further proved how darkly the storm had set in everyone's mind. Without a proper explanation, a handful of Hufflepuff students immediately abandoned their food and rushed out the door.

A certain blonde boy across the Great Hall from the Gryfindors smiled widely at the announcement. His blue eyes sparkled wordlessly as Malfoy quickly tipped his goblet till it was empty and rose silently. The questioning stares of Crabbe and Goyle went ignored as Malfoy gracefully left, leaving the Slytherins confused as to why one of their stars was leaving so early and cowardly. Yet the storm was the furthest thing from his mind as Malfoy turned up the dark grand staircase with unmatched ease, his mind fixed on one sole and unshakable purpose.

* * *

_End of Chapter 22, Part 1. See next part . . ._


	13. Chapter 22: Part 2

**Chapter 22 – Part 2**

The rolls of thunder, approaching quickly and one after the other now, were barely audible in the abandoned classroom on the third floor that Aurora chose as her hideout. No windows opened up in the walls, with the sole source of access being the door right in front of her. Lit only by her wand, emitting powerful beams from its place on the desk, the ancient scuff marks on the marble below her feet barely reached her sight.

Yet almost nothing did, for her consciousness had sunken away from her vision, her thoughts occupying nearly all of her existence. So detached was Aurora that her mind forgot that there was a storm, forgot that she had had classes, forgot everything. For blurred and indistinguishable hours, from midday till the onset of night that engulfed her now, she had sat in the only small wooden chair in the room, leaning her elbows on an equally tiny desk, and staring at the brown patterns before her. Old scratches in the wood proclaimed feelings of love toward other students, hate towards the teacher, or simply a desire to write a swearword somewhere. But none of these ancient inscriptions were processed in her mind; her fingers repeatedly traced every mark, recalling their shapes but not their meaning.

So unaware was Aurora that as a shadow of a human fell over her, she did not notice its veiling darkness, only to be awakened from her reverie by a familiar voice.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

With a loud gasp of surprise, Aurora's head jerked upward toward the source of the voice. Her frightened and rippled eyes met a pair of serene blue eyes, worn with a comfortable smirk by a boy leaning casually against the doorway. The light transformed his body into a silhouette and barely outlined his face, half of it hidden with impure intentions At her shocked response, Malfoy smiled widely, his hair falling in gold strands around his turned head.

"Draco! What – " After the afternoon's lack of usage, Aurora's voice cracked unexpectedly, and she gulped nervously with fear starting to sizzle within her. "What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same question," he smoothly replied, gently lifting his body off of the doorway and flashing a dangerous grin. "What are _you_ doing in an empty classroom, on the third floor, all by yourself?"

Terror formed a large ball at the base of her throat, though she rapidly tried to swallow it. "I – I was just – nothing," she stuttered quietly, her muscles tensing with the urge to leap out of her chair and run out the door.

"Nothing?" Malfoy repeated slowly and thoughtfully, his head tilting inquisitively to one side as he took a few slow steps in her direction. With every advance, Aurora's panicking heart pumped faster, and her seemingly paralyzed body jerked once. A scream threatened to explode, but she managed to keep it suppressed with momentarily closed eyes.

When she opened them again, she was horrified to see that Malfoy was no longer in the doorway or anywhere in sight. Out of nowhere, the fingers of a curled hand lightly touched her upper arm, making goose bumps appear on her skin along with a sharp gasp from Aurora. He was standing right behind her, and she could feel his robes rustling against hers.

"I don't really think you're doing nothing," came a chilling whisper from behind. The curled hand, which had halted its barely noticeable path on her shoulder flattened on the curve. The thumb of his hand softly rubbed back and forth on her shoulder. Her body wanted to jerk away, but she found herself unable to move, and instead her words came out desperately.

"Please, leave me alone," Aurora asked quietly, her stomach churning as his touch did not disappear.

A clicking tongue served Malfoy's disapproval. "I'm sure you don't mean that," he assured her with a smile in his voice. The thumb stopped moving, and to Aurora's dismay, she sensed his body shifting.

"You're so tense," he suddenly commented as his other hand wrapped around her second shoulder blade, both right next to her neck, and his fingers began to press and rub her covered flesh in repeated circles. The massage did nothing to pacify Aurora's fluttering heart, which began to pump in her ears wildly at the sense of his touch. Her stomach jerked violently again, and Aurora wanted to cry out in terror, and something inside of her started screaming uncontrollably for her to get away. Only one inch separated his hands from her unclothed neck, which sent a frightened chill down Aurora's spine. Once again, she felt like his touch was penetrating deep within her, and her body squirmed in reaction.

"No, stop!" Her left hand shot out to grasp his right hand desperately, and to her relief the fingers ceased their activities. Instead, however, his right hand curled gracefully around her pale hand, enveloping her fingers as an old-fashioned bachelor may have done. Before Aurora got a chance to wrench herself away, his hand guided hers upward toward him while his head quickly bent forward near her own. Moments later, another scream lodged in her throat and horror crawled slowly across her skin as his tender lips pressed softly against her cold hand. His golden head was now right beside hers, and as his face turned in her direction, with his nose grazing her cheek, her head bolted to the side away from his intended kiss.

"Tell me," Malfoy whispered almost drowsily in her ear, with his eyelids halfway down as though intoxicated, "What happened to the Aurora I used to know? The one who was strong and defiant, the one I took to the ball?"

"You never knew me," Aurora hissed fearfully in response, petrified as a vampire victim would be by the movement of his head toward her exposed neck. But instead of drawing blood, to the violent twist of her stomach, his parted lips sank onto the pale skin, and a heavy hot breath flowed downward. His lips drew together again in a sucking motion, and his tongue lightly flicked her skin, tasting her. This brought forth a sudden cry of alarm from Aurora, who wrenched herself toward the other side of the chair and out of his mouth's reach.

"Don't touch me!" She hurriedly jerked her hand out of his, which he thankfully did not protest, but instead became slightly amused. His eerie smile made her blood freeze in her veins, and his relentlessly hungry eyes were far from satiated. He waited patiently for her to continue, and his light eyebrows quirked to urge her on. "Please, leave me alone!"

His penetrating eyes changed, as if thoughtfully considering her words, though his curved lips never faltered. "I'll tell you what," Malfoy offered fluently, pausing as his fingers reached up and traced her jaw line, "You give me one kiss and I'll leave."

Though the thought was terrifying and easily the last thing she would do, she undoubtedly and desperately wanted him to leave. Her eyelids fluttered momentarily, disgusted when his hand cupped her jaw, and his warm thumb lightly touched her cold cheek. Her breath came out in the form of a ragged question, on the edge of his will. "Promise?"

The ends of his mouth twitched upward in response, though barely visible with the shadow across his face, and his fixed blue eyes seemed calm and sincere. "I promise."

Aurora could feel the prickling on the back of her neck and in her eyes, but as she hastily gulped down the urge to vomit, Malfoy bent forward and swiftly captured her mouth with his own. Terror leapt uncontrollably into her throat though she fought with closed eyes to keep it down, and his grip on her jaw tightened firmly. His mouth moved in a sweep-like motion, grazing her moist lips with his own, before his tilted face pressed forward and his warm lips sucked on the intoxicating warmth that she offered. His hungry lips dug passionately, maintaining a steady caressing as his the tip of his tongue ran impatiently along the inward seam between her lips that denied him entrance. His thumb flexed and tugged gently on the skin right below her mouth, signaling a firm desire for her lips to part, and Aurora tentatively obeyed with the hope that he will be satisfied soon and leave. Taking advantage of her separated lips, his wet tongue immediately shot inside her mouth, rolling around and tasting her while making Aurora feel sick to her stomach. His light moan was muffled on her lips, and his tongue unexpectedly flicked hers playfully.

With the lack of air pounding within the two of them, Malfoy finally drew himself away, and their gasps for air came at the same time. A sense of delayed relief flew into Aurora's chest when the kiss finished, and her eyes shot open expectedly. To her dismay, his immobile gaze seemed anything but satisfied.

"Draco . . ." Aurora breathed unevenly, pressing herself further away so that the chair dug painfully into her flesh, but her insides clenched as his face tilted and planted another wet kiss on her neck. His grip on her jaw tightened painfully to keep her in place, and her hands shot out and clenched the cloak on his shoulders to try to push his mouth away from her neck. "No . . . you – you promised . . ."

"Let me tell you a secret," he murmured almost inaudibly against her skin, and his face rose nonchalantly so that his mouth was positioned next to her ear. His voice reduced to a whisper that sent a frozen chill down her spine as two frightening words spilled from his mouth. "I lied."

With his answer revealed, Aurora's breath came as a sharp gasp as his teeth grazed her earlobe. "Draco – " Tears of terror leapt into her eyes, and she blinked hurriedly to clear her vision as her hands struggled to get him off. Her teeth gritted in panic when his free hand smoothed its way from her neck down her chest, and her voice rose to a high-pitched scream. "Stop it!"

A violent jerk seized her body like a seizure, and with a loud yelp she wrenched away from him. The chair tipped dangerously and sent the pair tumbling downward with a painful crash that rattled their bones. Wiggling out of the chair and away from Malfoy beside her, Aurora screamed as if she was being murdered, and a hand suddenly clamped over her mouth and nose. She found herself unable to breathe, and her nails ripped furiously at Malfoy's hand as he lifted himself on top of her. With the heaviness of his body on one side of her and the coldness of the floor clashing with it, Aurora thrashed like a wild animal under his grip.

Her teeth finally managed to sink into his flesh, and his hand pulled away with a loud and painful cry as she gasped for air. Crazed fury took over Malfoy, and his unexpected violence again shocked Aurora when the back of his hand smacked the side of her face. Pain shot through Aurora, but she fought back nevertheless, and her leg bent to knee him viciously right in the crotch. Malfoy tumbled off of her in withering pain, but as Aurora scrambled to her feet, Malfoy had risen and clamped his hands on her, tossing her downward to crumple painfully on the ground.

"You bloody whore," Malfoy hissed threateningly as he towered over her squirming body, and his swirling eyes struck fear into Aurora's pounding heart. "I'll teach you a lesson!"

A brutal kick to her stomach knocked all of the wind out of her, and his venomous grip attached to her neck like five pale snakes, smashing her windpipe. Aurora flailed savagely, landing one smack on his cheek, but her head whizzed with the memory of another boy.

_'Hold still,' Nathaniel hissed impatiently at her._

"No!" Her strangled scream sounded like the squeal of a drowning child. The blows were no longer separated in her memory or reality; they blurred together into one throbbing soreness, bruising her internally and externally. Pain engulfed her body repeatedly so that she could no longer feel anything other than its brutal grasp, and her mind lost control of her crazed body. She couldn't tell whether he was near her or not, whether he was whispering something in her ear or silent, as the pain took over her like a drug that kept hurting. Her blood was set aflame, but she could not feel herself move, and helpless tears streamed down her face as ugly blue began to cover her skin.

For eternity it seemed, the blows kept coming, and she was suddenly aware of a crack like a gunshot in the distance, and the frantic pounding of rain on the walls. Nathaniel's face floated in front of her, sending a silent scream racking through her body as all the horrors in the back of her mind were unleashed.

She did not sense the lack of Malfoy's touch as he pulled away; she did not see his silhouette leaving like a ghost. Pain was all that she could sense as she lay quivering on the floor, shaking like a dying animal.

What Aurora didn't realize when Malfoy got up and slowly exited the room was that he had not finished the job he had come intending to do; the one Aurora knew he would do; the one Nathaniel had done. She had not realized this because, as far as she was concerned, Nathaniel was back, doing it again. Malfoy, on the other hand, had noticed that her reactions had been too strong for his advances and had come to the conclusion that completing the job wasn't necessary. Aurora would finish it herself.

Malfoy was right. Aurora lay helplessly on the floor of the empty class room, aware of nothing but her own pain and memories. If anyone had asked, she would have sincerely told them that the blonde boy was still in the room.

_'Come here,' Nathaniel urged with a twisted smile. 'It won't hurt . . . very much.'_

And in her mind, the little black haired girl drew her ragged breaths in paralyzing shock and stabbing pain, reliving the worst nightmare of her entire life.

* * *

Ron wandered the low dungeon hallway, accompanied by the endless echoes of his footsteps and the ear-splitting snarling of the lightning outside. Through the few windows, the rain battered the glass like bullets while flashes of light danced across the sky and lit up the entire hallway. Yet Ron could care less about the storm outside. The storm inside of him was ten times worse, and he needed time to sort out his thoughts. Therefore, when everyone else was in the Gryfindor common room, he simply left in another direction. Harry had watched. Ron didn't dare meet his gaze.

It occurred to Ron, as he strolled down blindly, that Filch would probably be roaming the hallways, looking for stray students and eventually catching him. He shrugged, as if speaking to someone else, in indifference. If Filch caught him, fine. But he needed this time. He needed to be alone. He needed enough peace to hear his own thoughts, and though the storm crashed outside, it seemed like the casual movements of other people were a hundred times more effective at shattering inner peace.

_So that's it,_ Ron pondered with an uncomfortable gulp. _It only took five minutes for me to lose my best friend. Just like before._

The throbbing memory came back to haunt him once again, and immeasurable guilt slapped his soul. Hermione was dying, and he couldn't even touch her destiny, try to defend her or save her. He was a silent statue, though his insides cried out as if he were being dismembered. Five minutes was all it took for her to leave. Five minutes was all it took for Harry to leave, too. It was too fast. Way too fast.

_I could've saved Hermione. And I could've saved my friendship with Harry. But no. And both times, it's all my fault. Some bloody friend I am. Now they're both gone._

Ron had no idea that not too long ago, Harry had thought the same thing. _It's all my fault._

"Out for a stroll?" A voice from a shadowed corner of the room interrupted Ron's thoughts and nearly made him jump out of his skin. The redhead spun around wildly, facing the corner as panic set his veins aflame, until a blinding flash lit up the shadows and revealed a small animal –

"You!"

The black cat grinned from perked ear to ear, flashing his teeth unthreateningly. "Once again, I'd prefer being called 'Ramdeon', if you don't mind."

"Bloody hell, don't sneak up on me like that!" Ron was extremely irritated, but mostly embarrassed. Ramdeon had scared him yet again.

"Please do excuse me, but it is rather difficult for me to tap you on the shoulder from way down here." The cat walked into the middle of the hallway to Ron's feet, as if to prove his point by emphasizing how small he was. Ron resisted the strong urge to let his foot swing just a little . . .

"I need to speak to you about something important," Ramdeon hastily continued before Ron could respond. The cat's head tossed from side to side, making sure nobody was listening. Ron was completely bewildered. What would this cat need to talk to _him_ about?

"What?"

"It's about your friend, Hermione."

Instantly, the redhead's heart sank to the bottom of his stomach in drowning guilt. Dread overcame him as he realized he would have to relive this feeling every time someone mentioned her name, just like he did the hundreds of times before. "What is there to say?" Ron swallowed the next part of his answer and it sunk in as heaviness inside of him. "She's dead."

"That's precisely what I need to tell you!" Ramdeon locked his large and shining eyes with Ron's. "She's not dead!"

A cough erupted from Ron, as though he had choked on air, and his wide eyes stared down at the cat in disbelief. He couldn't believe his ears. "Excuse me?"

"I said, Hermione is not dead!"

A very faint piece of hope flickered within Ron, but it was doused by the sour feeling of reality. "Yes, she is. I saw her die." The words could barely come out of his mouth, but he needed to say them. Anger instead flared up inside him. "Stop this sick joke."

The cat blinked desperately. "This is no joke! I live in Minerva's office, and I've heard her discussing it with Dumbledore!"

Suddenly, Ron couldn't breathe. The shock had enveloped him like a gripping hand, and he could barely move or suck in air. _Could it be?_ His spirits lifted a little, yet his body did the opposite, and he found himself on his knees eye-to-eye with Ramdeon as he hopefully asked, "She's alive?"

"Well, not exactly," Ramdeon admitted but continued excitedly, "But she is in Hogwarts right now!"

The sentence hit Ron as he blinked confusedly. _Not dead, not alive?_ "What the hell – "

"Ron, do you know which room you were in when You-Know-Who arrived?"

Ron didn't even remember where the room was, or how he got there and found Harry with Voldemort. The only two things he could remember were that it was drearily dark, and that Hermione's blood had been splattered on the wall. "No – "

"You were in the _Nesskrad__ room_!" Ramdeon explained shortly, somehow expecting Ron to understand. However, it seemed that the more Ramdeon spoke, the more confusing the situation became. His dissatisfaction must have showed up on his face, because the cat heaved a sigh and said, "Let me explain. This won't be short, but here we go.

"In a normal death, the soul exits the body and disappears to an entirely different place, probably another universe, though no one is sure. With ghosts, the soul is removed from the body but remains in this world to stay among the living. But neither of these happened to Hermione, because hers was a special case.

"She died in the Nesskrad room, under the hand of You-Know-Who. Because she was in the Nesskrad room, she didn't truly die. For perhaps an hour or two, before you and Harry left the room, she _was_ dead. But then, her soul awakened and exited her body. But instead of disappearing to another existence, it was trapped in the Nesskrad room, a special room where souls cannot escape. There, the souls undergo incredible pain – physical, mental, and psychological – for an undetermined period of time. You-Know-Who had wanted Harry Potter to die in this room, to undergo this unbearable pain, to be stuck between life and death for eternity. But instead, Hermione died, so her soul was the victim.

"What exactly happens in the Nesskrad room, no one knows. Hermione was the first in Hogwarts history to die in that room, so we have no idea what she's going through as we speak. All we know is that the soul trapped inside is developing, trying to adapt to this new way of life. But the soul is so detached from this world, due to the effects of this special room, that we can't consider them a ghost. They can feel pain; ghosts can not.

"But at one point, the soul will learn to shield itself from all of the pain. It will learn how to live in this world outside of the human body. At this point, and no point beforehand, the soul may be released from the room and exist – not live, but exist – among the living. It's a terrible existence, more horrible than you or I could ever imagine. Ghosts may be able to find a peace inside themselves, but the soul from the Nesskrad room will never rest. All that awaits them is suffering.

"We don't know when a soul from the Nesskrad room is ready - we don't know what sign to look for. And only the most powerful of witches and wizards are strong enough to enter the room without experiencing the incredible pain. Dumbledore is one of them. He had visited Hermione several times, and tried to bring her hope. But she can't see him. Not yet; not before her soul is ready to enter this world.

"But Hermione's suffering, it – " Unexpected sorrow clutched Ramdeon, and he had to gulp it down before continuing. "I know what it's like. I know how horrible it is, for friends and family to be oblivious to your existence. It's like – " Once again, his voice cracked, and he revealed the past that he had been trying to forget for thousands of years.

"I watched them, I watched how my loved ones mourned for me at my funeral, when they thought I was dead. Especially Samara, my beautiful fiancé . . ." Tears filled up his eyes, unlike they would for any normal cat, for he was not a normal cat.

"I loved her. I loved her more than anything in the entire world. Oh, I would've given anything to be able to appear before her, even for a single moment, just to tell her that I was okay, to tell her that I would love her eternally, to be able to wipe the tears off of her face . . ." Ramdeon paused, his eyes now closed in despair, and Ron could even hear the undying love the cat had, just in his weakening voice. "She – she never deserved to cry like that."

Ron felt like his throat had run sandpaper dry, and his swallows did nothing to moisten it. After all of the ignorance he had shown Ramdeon, he never expected the cat to feel anything so deep, never imagined that he could be hiding so much.

A few deep breaths kept Ramdeon under control. "You know," the cat said dryly, "you're the first person I've told this to in at least three thousand years."

Uncomfortably positioned, Ron could not tell what he should say, and therefore said nothing. After a few more moments, Ramdeon opened his eyes again. "Terribly sorry about that," the cat said fluently as though nothing had happened. Ron was thoroughly amazed at this; he couldn't imagine how painful it would be to love someone for that long and not be able to do anything. _It's like how I felt when Hermione was dying – I was frozen. And he's just recovered like that._ From that moment on, Ron felt a lot more respect for Ramdeon.

"As I was saying," Ramdeon kept going, "I know what it's like to hurt that much. And no one deserves it. No one." Life returned to Ramdeon's dulled eyes, and he looked up determinedly at Ron. "So I had to tell you about Hermione, I had to tell you that she's safe. I had to let you know that you'll see her again."

"I'll see . . ." This was too good to be true, yet there was not a chance that Ramdeon wasn't telling the truth. He wouldn't have shared his past for nothing. _So it's true._ A warm feeling spread through Ron like he was just dunked into a warm river, and he felt a rush of emotions surge through him. Hermione's face floated in front of him.

_I'm going to see her again._

He felt like crying tears of joy, the kind shed when a dearly loved one rises out of the grave and everyone weeps in overwhelming happiness. Yes, for Ron, it was as if Hermione had risen out of the grave. The words kept repeating through his head, and his heart soared like never before.

_I'm going to see her again!_

Suddenly, a voice like a bark sounded in the hallway, and Ron froze when he recognized it as Filch's. "Is someone down there?"

"Quick," Ramdeon hissed, unexpectedly grabbing onto one of Ron's pant legs and tugging him toward the edge of the wall. "In the shadows!"

With nowhere else to hide, Ron threw himself against the wall just as Filch came into view. Apparently, Filch couldn't see Ron because of the darkness, but it occurred to him that if a single bolt of lightning flashed, he'd be exposed. His nerves stirred and his muscles tensed, and he closed his eyes to pray that he wouldn't be caught.

"Ah, good evening," Ramdeon greeted Filch kindly and politely. Once again, Ron found himself in awe. Only a minute ago, he was crying about his fiancé, and now he was as calm as ever.

Filch, meanwhile, only responded with a dirty look, and his eyes scanned the hallway suspiciously. "Is anyone else here?" He called out, and Ron flinched involuntarily as his back pressed further against the wall.

Ramdeon walked up to Filch, stood next to him, and tossed his head from side to side. "Well," Ramdeon concluded, "It seems that no one's here, even from your perspective."

Filch growled dangerously and irritatedly, his ugly face scrunched up in concentration and distaste. "Goddamnit, I swear," he warned in a low tone, "If you're hiding someone here, Ramdeon, I'll have you kicked out of Hogwarts!"

A fake gasp escaped from Ramdeon, and he clicked his tongue once. "My, my, my, could that possibly be a threat?"

"It is, goddamnit!" Filch screeched, and his foot hurled toward the cat. Though Ron found his stomach clench, awaiting a feline yelp, Ramdeon immediately leapt gracefully out of the way to prove that his cat-like traits were unspoiled by his human soul.

"Oh, goodness, Filch," Ramdeon said slyly, "Violence is certainly not the answer. I would expect you to know that."

"I swear I'll get you one day, goddamnit!" Filch shrieked at him.

A grin once again widened on Ramdeon's face, and he looked like the Cheshire cat. "I see that 'goddamnit' is still your favorite word, isn't it?"

Ron painfully stifled a chuckle, and Filch's eyes looked like they would pop out of their sockets. Without another word, Filch turned his back and stomped away, his footsteps slowly fading away until they could no longer be heard.

Both Ramdeon and Ron let out an enormous sigh, and Ron tumbled out of the shadows. "That was a close one," Ron declared unnecessarily, and Ramdeon nodded.

"Come on, you must go before he returns. And trust me, he _will_ return."

Ron nodded appreciatively, not sure how exactly to treat Ramdeon any more. "Thanks . . . for all . . ."

"It's the least I could do," Ramdeon insisted politely and with a small smile. "Now, go tell Harry the same."

Ron felt a little stab upon hearing Harry's name, but although he would have normally rejected the idea of going to talk to Harry, this time he knew Harry would listen. He nodded at the cat with a sincere smile and turned to walk away. Before he did, though, he looked back and asked the retreating cat a question.

"Hey, Ramdeon," he paused as the cat looked back with his big eyes, "What happened to your fiancé?"

An uncomfortable pause allowed Ramdeon a moment to construct his careful answer. "She drowned . . . in the Nile."

But from the way he carefully and painfully said those words, Ron had a feeling that her death was not an accident. _Wow._

With an unshakable feeling of awe and an entirely new level of respect, Ron broke into a sprinting rush into the darkness to tell Harry the news.

* * *

As Ron had left the Gryfindor common room long beforehand, a pair of emerald green eyes watched him carefully and curiously.

_Where's he going? He's not supposed to – _

Snapped back by the memory of their fight, Harry instantly tore his eyes away and sharply reminded himself that they were no longer friends. His aimless eyes wandered about the crowded common room, and he decided to take one of the very few vacant chairs. He sat down heavily and stared unblinkingly at the fire before him, his insides swirling along with the same unpredictable rhythm.

Out of the corner of his eye, a discarded textbook caught his attention. It was a Potions book, lying right next to him on the floor, openly inviting his curious stare. He looked carefully from side to side, to see if someone had dropped it, but no one was nearby and his gaze returned to the book. Carefully, hesitantly, he bent forward with his fingers outstretched, gently lifting up the book. The book closed as he picked it up, and he found himself staring at the bold letters on the front cover: "POTIONS: UNLOCKING THE SECRETS OF BREWERY".

_It's someone from my year._

His fingers carefully pried it open to the first page, and he caught a glimpse of a strikingly familiar name scribbled in equally familiar handwriting:

_Aurora Withertopp._

Resisting the strong urge to toss the book aside as if it were on fire, Harry instead felt a curious urge to look through it. The question of how this book came to be lying on the ground crossed his mind, but in the complete absence of any possible explanation, he brushed aside the thought. His hand tilted the book as he flipped through the pages, and suddenly a folded letter floated downward from the whirling book.

_What's this?_

Temptation overcame him, and he carefully reached down to pick it up. Looking around from side to side, he saw that none of the other students were watching him, and his eyes returned to the letter. He felt like he was handling the answer, the secret Aurora had been hiding for so long, and in response his fingers fondled the paper and drew it closer to his awaiting thirst for understanding. Finally, he slowly pried open the seal and found himself staring at the Hogwarts symbol. The letter read:

_'Miss Aurora Withertopp,_

_It is urgent that you depart for Hogwarts immediately. You will be informed of the reason upon your arrival, but it involves the death of Hermione Granger. Please be ready to depart in 24 hours in __London__. You will be instructed further from that point._

_Signed,_

_Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'_

Harry's eyes widened as he grasped the meaning of the letter. _Aurora__ was summoned to Hogwarts because of Hermione? But that doesn't make sense – _

His eyes traveled upward to the date of the letter. It was dated the night Hermione died. The thought made his chest pound hollowly, and he realized that the letter had been scribbled very quickly. _They must've sent for her that night . . . but why?_

As if to answer his question, the sight of a photograph lying face up on the floor caught Harry's eye. He bent the letter back into its right shape, tucking it safely back into the textbook, and once again he looked around for watchers. Nobody; in fact, most of the room was empty, as it was late and everyone was going to bed. He turned his attention back to the photograph, and his fingers reached down to grasp it. He leaned back in his chair and studied it silently.

It was a magical moving photograph, with two little girls of probably ten or eleven years, arm in arm and giggling together in someone's backyard. One was a small brunette with large green eyes and a very familiar face, and she was whispering something to the other girl. _That must be __Aurora__ . . ._

His attention turned to the second girl, who was laughing with eyes brightly shining, and his heart stopped. Her uncontrollably bushy blonde hair and warm, light smile were too familiar. _Hermione?__ But – it can't be – _

His hand immediately flipped the photograph over to see if something was written on the back, some reason for Hermione and Aurora to be in the same picture, and the answer was clearly printed in a short poem.

_Cousins from the Start, Best Friends from the Heart!_

And Harry's breath stopped coming in as he stared incredulously at the words. _What? They're – cousins?_ His eyes felt like they were going to pop out, and his hand shook slightly as it held the letter. _That's the secret? That they're . . . cousins?_

The reasoning came back to him; the resemblance between Hermione and Aurora, the way their roles seemed so close, it all made sense! Even his nightmare with Voldemort holding a knife at Aurora's neck seemed to help explain it, when Voldemort had said, 'There must be something in the gene pool'. It was because Hermione and Aurora were related! That was the secret Aurora had been hiding; that she and Hermione were cousins, nothing about being possessed!

A heavy feeling settled into him, making it hard to breathe. It was a mixture of incredible relief and immeasurable guilt. After being on the edge for so long, he suddenly slumped backward in his chair, staring blindly at the fire that blew heat on his body. _So . . . all of this time . . . there was no connection between her and Voldemort?_

All of the pent up hatred within him died, and even with the hot air being blown in his face, his body convulsed with a small shiver. _I've been so wrong . . . _

The thought of Ron's defense came to his mind, and he instantly felt an immense sadness and guilt. _Ron was right. __Aurora__'s innocent._ Now Harry felt like the betrayer, and he realized that he had been the one to turn his back on everyone, and on the truth. All of these ideas about Voldemort possessing Aurora had been just that: ideas. There was no drop of truth in them.

_Ron . . ._

Harry felt like he had to do something. All of these dark feelings were taking over him, and he needed to set everything right. He needed to get Ron back, and he needed to admit the truth.

_But what if Ron doesn't want to be friends again? What if I hurt him too much?_

This time, he really felt like he had lost Ron, but this time there was hope of becoming friends again. _I've already lost Hermione . . . _Determination flared within him. _I can't lose Ron, too!_

But Ron was nowhere in sight; as Harry whipped his head around, the only redheads in his view were the Weasely twins, who were busily bent together and probably planning a prank. Harry remembered that Ron had left, and he sank back down into his chair with a ragged sigh.

_Well,_ he thought as his gaze returned to the textbook and the photograph, _there's one thing I have to set straight right now._

Almost without thinking, he grabbed the textbook and shoved the photograph in between the pages. As if on fire, he jumped out of his seat and sprinted across the nearly empty common room, crashing into the door in his haste. The fat lady squealed in surprise, but Harry took no heed as he slammed the door shut behind him and raced blindly down the hallways.

He couldn't even tell exactly where he was going; his breathing was sucked in frantically, and his head whirled so much that he felt dizzy. His heart pounded away within him, and his legs burned and ached from the sudden exertion. All of these emotions were in control now. How to get to Aurora didn't matter to him now; he needed to find her, and his irrational mind was only focused on that point.

Down and down he went, and as he kept running aimlessly, the storm slipped from his mind. Yet the storm did not slip away; the lightning still illuminated the hallways, and the thunder still rolled in a furious war cry. To the patting rhythm of the rain on some windows, Harry ran as quickly as his legs could carry him, his breaths as infrequent as the thunder. He was forgetting to breathe, so powerful was the grip of his aching release on him.

After about five minutes of running, Harry tumbled forward and nearly fell over. His body could not be pressed any further; he wobbled dangerously, and his gasps sounded as dry as sandpaper. He bent over, his hands clutching his knees, trying to catch his breath in raspy pants. His body was racked with pain, grasping his thundering heart, and beads of sweat trickled down the side of his face. A question hit him as he looked curiously around.

_Where am I?_

It was only at this point that his mind took over, and Harry realized how stupid he had been. He was just running around, not necessarily looking, and now he ended up in an unknown place. The paintings weren't familiar, and as he looked back, he saw no staircase. _I think I'm lost._

He cursed himself mentally, knowing that getting lost in Hogwarts was the last thing he should do. Who knew how long it would take him to find a way back. Something heavy pulled on his arm, and as he looked down, he realized that in his mad haste he had taken Aurora's textbook with him. _All the same,_ he reasoned, _I'll give it to her when I find her._

He paused, shamefully correcting himself.

_If I find her.___

Something moved in the shadows, making the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. A person was walking toward him from down the hallway, and only when a brilliant flash of lightning struck the sky did Harry make out the form: ruffled blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a confident stride –

"Malfoy?"

The blonde boy smiled knowingly at Harry's confused stare, which soon froze into an icy glare. "Potter," he returned lightly, as if to mock Harry's greeting, and his smirk twisted into a sharp upward curve. Years of hatred boiled within Harry, and he felt like leaping at the bastard, but then Malfoy's eyes wandered to the textbook and he said something that shocked Harry.

"Looking for Aurora, I assume?"

Harry's eyes narrowed instinctively, and his eyebrows furrowed angrily. His reaction seemed to amuse Malfoy, who must have recognized it as something other than anger. It was true; the concern that shot through Harry's mind like a bullet wasn't about harming Malfoy, but about what had happened to Aurora.

"Where is she?" Harry hissed dangerously, taking a determined step toward Malfoy to bring him within swinging distance. Taking advantage of the situation, Malfoy playfully chuckled and titled his head to the side.

"If you really want to know," Malfoy carefully chose his words, stepping toward Harry in an equally threatening challenge, "I'll tell you."

He studied Harry's swirling eyes, relishing his fury and concern, before he informed the brunette, "She's in one of the empty classrooms down the hallway."

Malfoy's hand slipped out of his pocket, and Harry thought he was taking out a wand, so his hand shot to his own pocket. But to Harry's surprise and immediate shock, his hand wielded a quill. Harry watched in utter and wordless disbelief as the quill gracefully rotated in Malfoy's fingers, and then without warning, it snapped and floated to the ground in two pieces. The memory of his past confrontation with Malfoy returned to Harry, and he fearfully stared down at the broken quill, feeling sick to his stomach. Malfoy's shoe stepped out and covered the pieces, twisting brutally as if to squeeze the life out of them. Now very close to an immobilized Harry, he gracefully leaned forward toward Harry's ear, and his low voice whispered the thing that struck fear into Harry's heart.

"And I don't think she was studying."

With one last smile, Malfoy brushed to the side of Harry and walked away. Yet Harry could do nothing to stop him; his wide eyes were fixed on the crippled quill, with its metaphoric meaning making his blood freeze in his veins.

_No . . ._

His shocked hand did not feel the textbook tumble out of his grasp, nor did the sound of the crashing book reach his ears. His breaths became wild again, like they had when he was running, and he stared unbelievingly at the pieces.

_No!_

Rushing forward in a blind haste, his foot collided painfully with something hard and he stumbled uncontrollably toward the floor. Whipping backward, he saw that the textbook had tripped him, and with a panicked curse, his hand snatched the book off the floor. Without hesitation, his legs pumped ahead, and his head flipped from side to side, peering into each of the classrooms. They were all dark and empty, so he kept going, with the doors seemingly endless on either side as they passed him.

Suddenly, his eyes detected a little bit of light ahead. It was coming from one of the rooms, and his heart skipped a beat when he realized that Aurora must be in there. Racing harder and faster than ever, with the pounding of his feet echoing in the hallway, he nearly crashed into the doorway when he arrived. His raspy and breathless voice cried out as he steadied himself.

"Aurora!"

At first, nothing seemed to occupy the windowless and dreary room, save the beams from a wand lying on a single desk. But upon closer examination, he drew a sharp breath – there she was, sitting on the floor with her back pressed against the wall, her wide and lifeless eyes staring blankly ahead of her, as fixed as if she were dead. Her robes were savagely ripped on her shoulder and at her exposed thigh, making her look like a bruised and bleeding peasant. Her irregular and gasping breaths shook with frozen terror, and her head moved upward and downward with her desperate thirst for oxygen. Upon her eternally pale face, twisting streams of tears shined in shame. Her exposed arms were spotted with ugly black and blue, and they wrapped around her bent and scraped knees to hug them tighter toward her quaking chest. Harry gasped as his eyes saw a splatter of blood on the floor, the cause unknown, and noticed that the bruises crept past the concealment of her robes.

He did not know exactly what Malfoy had done to her, but just the graveness of her condition froze him in the doorway. Yet she did not even glance in his direction, so absorbed Aurora was in her throbbing pain. Taking a shaky step toward her, Harry cautiously and questioningly whispered her name.

"Aurora?"

One loud gasp from her chipped and parted lips made him jump in surprise, but still she refused to look at him. That was the only piece of evidence that she noticed his very existence – otherwise, she remained heaped on the floor like a pile of rags, unaware of his presence. Driven on by instinct but held back by fear, Harry gulped as he took enough steps to put her in front of him. He kneeled before her, but her eyes seemed to look through him instead of at him. When his hand carelessly dropped the textbook, an electric jolt rocked her entire body.

"Aurora? What – " Harry's hand reached for her shoulder in an attempt to awaken her from her eerily absorbing reverie, but as soon as his finger made contact with her skin, a high-pitched scream violently erupted from her throat. His hand shot back as if he was burned as she jerked herself away in panic, making her fall to the ground.

"No! Stop!" She cried out in pain, and her frozen tears sent a shock directly at Harry's heart.

"Aurora, stop it, look at me!" Instead of the commanding voice Harry expected, his words were weak and frail, and they did not seem to reach Aurora. Her eyes were still looking through him, blinded by tears and as dull as those of a corpse.

"Don't touch me!" Aurora yelled without warning, and Harry suddenly realized that she was not speaking to him, for his hands were nowhere near her. _Oh my god . . ._

"Aurora, wake up! Look at me!" This time he was almost begging, possessed by the fear of her eyes. They penetrated deep within him and made his stomach clench.

Her emerald orbs did not look at him, but they did blink furiously, as if she had heard something remarkable. Her mouth opened wordlessly, and her voice was weak in helpless despair. "Harry?"

Half-relieved by her response, Harry nodded vigorously, unsure of whether or not she could see him. Her eyes rolled dangerously to the back of her head, and her body collapsed to the floor in a death-like unconsciousness. Seizing his chance, Harry reached over to check her pulse at her wrist, and was horrified by the oozing and ugly bruises that covered her. He shivered involuntarily and found that she indeed had a pulse, though unsteady.

About one minute later, Harry found himself carrying Aurora's limp body toward the Gryfindor common room, a flaming hatred burning within him – at Malfoy, but most of all, at himself.

* * *

When he finally did arrive at the tower, he ignored the fat lady's squealing terror and monotonously demanded to be let in. As soon as he stepped in, he realized that only one person was still awake and sitting on an armchair – the one person who made Harry stop in his tracks once he recognized the flaming red hair. Dread possessed Harry, as he was sure that Ron would not talk to him, but it was chased away by Ron's loud gasp.

"Harry? What – what the bloody hell happened?" Each friend forgot the fight as Ron rushed forward to help.

"Malfoy," was the only explanation Harry gave and Ron needed, for Ron instantly opened his eyes wide in dread and wordlessly cradled Aurora's head, staring down at her pale and bruised face. "We've got to get her in the girl's tower. There's no way we can leave her in the Hospital Wing – what would we say?"

With an understanding nod and a surprising lack of hesitation, Ron's arms wrapped around Aurora's waist to help with the burden, and together they stumbled up the staircase toward the girl's tower.

"I'm sorry," came Harry's immediate and unprecedented apology the instant that the pair where kicked out of the tower by squealing girls. Ginny had somehow appeared and helped Aurora to her bed, and after a briefing from a slightly traumatized Harry, she began checking Aurora for serious injuries. However, a bunch of embarrassed girls had awakened, screamed unmercifully at the boys for showing up in the girl's tower, and promptly kicked them out. Now, the pair sat on their respective beds in the boy's tower, wide awake among sleeping boys.

Ron did not seem surprised by Harry's apology, and in fact he seemed like he had something urgent to tell Harry. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," Harry insisted, feeling his guilt beginning to leave him and seep into the bed spread. "You were right. I was being irrational and stupid, and Aurora's innocent, and I'm sorry."

"Harry, it's alright. Really, it is. I'm sorry I started yelling at you."

Just as the warm feeling of their friendship began to make Harry smile, a crash at the window instantly wiped the smile away. He looked up and saw Hegwig, with her white feathers bent and beaten, clutching a letter and trying to get in. Surprised and infected once again with dread, Harry's hands clutched the window to thrust it open and let the faithful owl in.

"Hedwig? What happened to you?"

In response, the bird dropped the letter in Harry's lap with a quiet screech. Harry looked down and was stunned by what he saw.

"Ron, it's a letter from Malfoy to his father!"

"What?" Ron leaned over in disbelief and read it for himself.

"Hedwig must've fought Malfoy's owl to get it – but why?"

The owl did not respond, but instead leaped out the window again, as if to tell the pair that they should read the letter for an explanation. Anger again made Harry's heart pump harder, and he had no hesitation when he ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter. A white flower that had lost many of its petals was taped to it – Harry and Ron found that incomprehensible, but it was the flower that Aurora had put in her hair, and it was the flower that she kept so preciously. Ignorant of this fact, the pair instead read the short letter.

_Dear Father,_

_This flower I have tonight picked from my victim, a friend of that not-so-blissfully ignorant Harry Potter. I hope that Our Master is satisfied and shall accept this flower as a gift from a servant._

_Loyally,_

_Your Faithful Missionary._

"That disgusting little bastard!" Harry resisted the urge to crumple up the letter on the spot, and Ron's hands snatched it away.

"Oh my god, Malfoy did that for Voldemort?" Ron's face twisted in disgust. "So Voldemort was trying to get back at you . . . God, I'll kill that son of a bitch!"

"Ron," Harry suddenly cut him off, abruptly changing the subject and getting out something that had been pressing him very badly, "Aurora and Hermione are cousins."

Ron blinked speechlessly. "Excuse me?"

"They're cousins!"

Ron blinked again, this time with understanding. "That makes sense."

"Yeah."

This time, it was Ron's turn to interrupt Harry and deliver shocking news. "Harry, Hermione isn't dead."

And Harry rounded on Ron in disbelief, afraid of the flame of hope just sparked, overwhelmed by everything that just happened, and most of all, not able to believe his ears. "What?"

* * *

_Author's Note: Gasp! Harry is about to find out all about Hermione, and here's a hint: he and Ron aren't gonna just leave her there! If you want to find out what happens next, please review! I feed off of your feedback! (Hence the name.) Now, to answer past reviews . . ._

[Usha88]: Hope you're less confused now, because everything's out in the open! And I took the time to make the conversation between Harry and Ron at the beginning to answer any confusion about the hatred with Aurora . . . but now things are gonna change – drastically! Thanks for reviewing, and it's great to have you back!

[Jae]: Thank you so much for all of your generous praise! I really don't feel like I'm doing my best here, but I'm glad you're enjoying it. Hopefully, this chapter didn't disappoint you. Thanks for reviewing!

[Inylan]: That was unmistakably the most well-worded and scholarly review I've ever gotten, and I'm not just saying that. Thank you very much for your feedback, but I don't feel as if I'm doing my best here. Actually, I do much better on my fictionpress account, but that's another story. Thanks for reviewing!


	14. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

"Here comes Anguis Malfoy, the savior of the wizarding world!" The young blonde boy grinned widely as he whipped around his father's heavy sword. Draco wasn't supposed to be playing with it, because it was one of his father's favorites. The sword once belonged to Anguis Malfoy, an ancient ancestor of their family, and his father kept it hanging on the stone wall of the older wing - the one that was off limits.

But the six-year-old couldn't resist. Ever since he first dared to climb up on the nearby box to reach the sword, he was enchanted. He was holding the exact same sword as his great-great grandfather, the man whom his father always talked about. And even though it was extremely heavy and he could barely lift it off the ground, he loved pretending to be his famous ancestor.

"Hya! Hya!" Shouted Draco as his arms struggled to keep the sword aloft. His head was getting dizzy from spinning around and around, the sword swinging nearly out of control. He was the happiest kid in the world at this moment, in the quiet of the night, because even though he didn't really know what a Mudblood was, he knew that they were bad. His father said so, and he believed everything his father told him. And Anguis helped get rid of the Mudbloods, so he was good. And as long as he held the rusted sword, he pretended that his father was as proud of him as he was of Anguis.

Draco heaved a huge gasp as the sword clanged on the ground, and his arms burned with the pain. He took a few moments to catch his breath and glanced up at the wall, where a huge painting of Anguis Malfoy hung. His scorning face was void of any possible kindness, and yet Draco adored him. He was taught to, and he did.

After he had stared into his ancestor's face long enough, he reached down to lift the sword again. This time, it slipped, and with an exclamation of panic, he grabbed on tight - but accidentally caught the sharp blade.

"Ow!" He screamed in pain as the blade cut into his skin. He let go instinctively, letting the sword clang on the ground as he cradled his right hand. A red slice ran across his palm, bleeding freely and dripping onto father's favorite carpet with soft pats. Tears blinded him and his breaths became shallow and sharp. "Ow," he sobbed, fearfully watching his hand bleeding and staining his pajamas. He was scared of angering his father, not only with playing with the sword but also staining his favorite carpet, but he was even more scared of the pain that shot through his hand.

"M-mother!" The young Draco finally cried out desperately, racing out of the medieval-like stone room. He crashed through the maple carved doors and entered the marble-covered large entrance hallway, and the bright crystal chandelier overhead blinded him. His vision blurred as he screamed again. "Mother!"

Blood was dripping through the hallways as he raced up the grand staircase, searching desperately for his mother as his voice rang out in the mansion. Pain cried within him, and he was almost hyperventilating, his gasps becoming raspier and raspier. In his haste, he fell forward on the staircase, and his head painfully crashed onto the uncarpeted wood. Frantically crying, he kept racing and crying out for his mother, blood forming a bright wet trail behind him.

"Mother!"

As he neared the master bedroom, a sound made him stop in his tracks. It was the sound of his father - yelling, cursing, screaming like a madman. The noise immobilized him, because he thought that maybe father already knew about what he had done, and Draco was fearful of his possible punishment. But, only a few seconds later, something else reached his ears - the sound of his mother whimpering. That scared him even more.

"F-father? Mother!" He nervously yelled down the hallway. They didn't answer him, because his father kept cursing filthy words, muffled by the door that led to their bedroom. A crash of porcelain made Draco jump, and his breath shook. He was scared of going down the hallway and opening the door. He didn't know what was happening, but he was scared to death.

But he had to go in there, he told himself. He had to be brave, like his father always told him. "A real man has no fear," his father once told him. He had to make his parents proud, and he had to act like a very good boy. Thirsting for their approval, his left hand wiped the streaking tears off of his face, and his wide eyes stared in fear at the doorway.

He took a few nervous steps toward the bedroom, horrified of what he might discover. He took several deep breaths to try to calm himself, but he couldn't. His head was spinning with lack of oxygen, and his legs quaked underneath him. As he got closer, he heard something else - sobbing. His mother was crying, and that alone washed away all possibility of Draco remaining brave.

"Damn it, Narcissa! Just shut your bloody mouth!" He heard his father snap viciously, and the sound of a fierce blow made Draco wince. His mother cried out in pain, and something hit the floor. Draco's fear for his mother took over, and he leaned his ear against the shut door.

"Luscious, please - " His mother begged, but another crash of fine china silenced her. Draco almost cried out in fear, but instead held his tongue, and he started to shake. He gazed with blurred blue eyes at the doorknob, trying to will his hand to grasp it, but his body just vibrated out of control.

"You little whore!" His father screeched madly, and his mother cried out again. "How dare you bring another man into this house!"

Draco was confused, but scared all the more by the murderous tone his father used. "We're just friends, Luscious - " his mother choked between her sobs, and the muffled sound of a harsh kick met Draco's ears. "H-he was an old friend, he was just visiting, I didn't know -"

"Bullshit!" His father cut her off, screaming with such a force that Draco's body shivered. "How long have you two been at it? Huh, Narcissa?" A loud slap followed. "Answer me, bitch!"

Again, the sound of his mother's pleading voice sent a shaking wave of nauseousness through Draco. "Luscious, please, you know I only love you -"

"How long have you been whoring around?" His father spat.

"He's just a fr -"

"Bullshit! That's all bloody bullshit!"

This time, Draco got up the courage to cry out through the doorway. "Father? Mother?"

His mother cried out again, and this time it was too much. Draco grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open, stumbling into the room. When he looked up, his breath caught in his throat and he couldn't breathe. He saw his mother, shaking tears streaking down her pale face, bruised and crumpled on the floor like a rag doll. Her blonde hair mingled in tangles, masking part of her face, and the sounds of her light sobs met Draco's terrified presence. Above her towered his threatening father, his frozen eyes scanning her body with disgust and anger. The murderous look on his face was enough to make Draco freeze in terror - he looked like he was going to kill her.

The moment Draco stumbled into the room, his father hadn't even bothered to look up. His mother's head twisted around and spotted her son, her eyes going wide with surprise and a hint of fear. She stopped crying instantly, swallowing the sobs as they came. Draco forgot the pain in his hand, forgot the blood that was running down onto the expensive carpet.

"Mother?" Draco weakly said, regarding her tear-streaked face with unmatched horror. He glanced up at his father, whose fists were curled into tight balls. Draco did not understand what was going on, and that scared him even more. "Father?"

His father still refused to look at him, and Draco felt a sharp stab of rejection in his stomach that he had never felt before. Looking at his mother was like a slap in the face, because her once beautiful eyes were dull and red and puffy. It took so much of his tiny body's energy just to force the tears back from his eyes, and his mouth hung partly open in fear. He had never seen either of his parents like this.

"Draco," his mother spoke softly, still on the floor but twisted around to look at him, and Draco couldn't stand it any longer. He started to cry, regardless of how much it would displease his father. Tears ran down his face like small rivers, and his body fought to stay standing with his knees threatening to buckle.

Even though his father didn't even glance in his direction, Draco knew he could hear him. "You see what you've done?" His father growled at her. She gazed up at him in submissive fear as voice began to rise with every single poisonous word. "Do you see what you've done to this family, Narcissa?" He ended with a sharp yell, and his foot swung out and collided with his wife's stomach. She gasped in pain, and Draco's blood went cold and froze in his veins.

"Stop it," Draco pleaded quietly between two choking sobs, his body still refusing to obey his commands.

His mother whipped her head up at him and gave him a sympathetic but hard look. "Draco, I want you to leave right now," she whispered airily. Her voice sounded so weak and lifeless that Draco's sobs became louder. Draco did not understand that his mother was trying to protect him, and even if he did, he was too scared. Too scared to back away, but too scared to advance. All he knew was fear.

"Shut up, you whore!" His father cried out, and his hands shot out to grasp the collar of her battered floral nightgown. Draco's heart stopped beating when his mother yelped and her body was lifted off the floor. His father hurled her toward the bed, and her arm bumped one of the bedposts with a disgusting crack, and the rest of her body crumpled on the bed.

"Father!" Draco cried in fear, and his feet stumbled when he tried to go forward. His father rushed to the bed, pinning his mother down with his arms as he gave her a few harsh blows to her head. His mother screamed and tore at his wrists, and Draco ran to his father. "Stop it, father!" He tugged on his father's pant leg, desperately trying to pull him away, but the little six-year-old boy could not make him budge. The blows and screams kept going, his mother struggling underneath his father's powerful grasp. "Please, father! Stop hurting mother!" His sobs were fierce and loud, and he kept tearing at his father, trying to get him away.

This time, his father turned around toward Draco, and a scream lodged in Draco's throat when he saw his father's merciless and half-glazed eyes. His mother cried out for his father to stop, but his father did not heed, and stared at Draco with an unmatched level of anger. "Stay out of this, you brat!"

His father's foot swung viciously, and an earth-shattering blow landed on Draco's tiny stomach. The wind was knocked out of him and he choked helplessly, and seconds later he collided with the ground. Every bone in his body screamed, and his hand throbbed relentlessly. He could hear the blood pounding in his head over his mother's panicked shout.

"Draco!" He heard his mother scream, and Draco suddenly couldn't breathe. It was too painful; he felt like something was standing on top of him. He closed his eyes and his body convulsed with coughs. He felt a slimy liquid coat his tongue and tried to cough and spit it out. Moments later, a warm and soft hand touched his cheek, and without opening his eyes he knew it was his mother.

"Draco, are you alright? Draco!" He felt himself being scooped up into her arms and opened his eyes. Her once beautiful face was stained with tears and bruises and a hint of blood. It scared him so much, and in the comforting warmth of her hold, he threw his tiny arms around her neck and wept. Her hand grasped a bundle of yellow blonde hair on the back of his head, clutching him to her as pain racked his body. He felt like he had been stabbed in the stomach, and the wound on his hand opened to pour crimson blood on her silk nightgown. He wept helplessly in her arms, his head spinning with confusion and pain.

In the midst of all the chaos, his father's subdued voice interrupted Draco's painful thoughts. "Get that boy to bed," his father snapped, but somehow Draco knew that it was over. However that didn't help the slap of rejection he just felt. His father had called him "that boy". A worthless boy, not even worthy of naming.

Draco slowly opened his eyes and peeked over his mother's shoulder at his father. He felt like a hot needle had pierced his skin. There was no trace of love or compassion in his father's eyes, and Draco wanted to cry out to him, to show him that he was sorry for being a bad son and that he wanted to be good. But his voice did not obey him, and all Draco could do was cry.

"Sh," his mother soothed softly, and Draco's sobs quieted a little. She walked out of the room, and before they left, Draco had one last fleeting look at the frozen fixture of his father's unforgiving face. He buried his head in his mother's shoulder, his eyes stinging and his muscles burning.

Within a few moments, as Draco clung to his mother like a newborn baby, he felt himself being gently put down on the familiar softness of his bed. He reluctantly let go of his mother, who reached over to pull covers over him. "Mother," Draco whispered quietly, trying to swallow the ball of vile at the back of his throat, "my hand hurts."

His mother glanced at his hand and gasped in surprise. "How did you get this, Draco?" She cradled his hand with her own, pulling out her wand and muttering a healing spell. Draco was overwhelmed by guilt, but confessed out of the inborn trust he had for his mother.

"I - I was playing with father's sword," Draco explained guiltily, and he felt his hand seal up with his mother's spell. It still throbbed a little, but he told himself that he would act like a good boy and not cry. "The sword slipped . . ." Despite his earlier promise, he was on the verge of tears again. "I'm sorry, mother. I'm sorry I was a bad boy."

A soft kiss planted on his forehead helped to calm him down. "Draco, it's alright. Don't be upset."

"Father hates me," Draco declared officially, and tears squeezed out of the slits of his eyes. "I know he does!"

"Oh, no, honey . . ." His face brightened the slightest bit. He loved it when his mother called him 'honey' instead of 'Draco'. "He doesn't hate you."

But confusion still overwhelmed Draco, and he looked pleadingly at his mother's kind face. "Why did father hit you, mother?"

His mother looked like she was about to cry as well, and his gut twisted violently. "Well," she started hesitantly, trying to chose the best words to explain it to her son, "There really is no reason. Your father is just angry."

The way that his mother said 'your father' made him sound so foreign, like the way divorced parents speak of each other. Draco didn't know what a divorce was, but he recognized the stinging choice of words.

"I want you to promise me something, Draco," his mother told him, her hand sweeping softly on his forehead and gently brushing away stray strands of blonde hair. She looked very serious, but her eyes failed to meet his. Draco was willing to promise anything to help her feel better. "Promise me that you will never do what your father just did. Promise me that you will never hit a woman like that."

Draco nodded immediately, and his lips parted silently. "I promise."

* * *

"Father," A nine-year-old Draco whined distastefully, lazily tossing the small book he was reading aside. They were in his father's library, with Draco sprawled on the black leather sofa as his father sitting bent over the work on his desk. Draco stared at his father, memorizing the fine lines on his face. "I'm bored."

"Don't bother me, Draco," his father snapped immediately, his eyes still fixated on a bunch of scrolls in front of him. "I'm busy."

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed exaggeratedly, to emphasize how boring this was. He lay on the sofa in silence, before deciding he may at least make himself comfortable. His head pressed against a pillow and with his hands clasped behind his head and his elbows sticking out.

The silence kept going, interrupted only by the sounds of the pair breathing and the flipping of pages as his father scanned several books. Draco stared at the ceiling, and then tried to count the number of books on the three enormous bookshelves that covered each wall. He failed and drifted off into boredom again, and began thinking about his life in a detached manner. One thing popped up in his mind, a question that had been nagging at him for years, a question that he was desperate to ask.

"Father," Draco began, his eyes still fixed on the bookshelves.

"What?" His father seemed irritated but not unapproachable, so Draco took a deep breath before asking.

"Why did you hit mother?"

His father must've been taken aback by the question, because Draco did not hear a response immediately. When it finally did come, it was calm and collected, with the same tone one would use to discuss Quidditch matches in daily news. "Because, my son, I am a man."

Draco didn't understand the answer, so he craned his head up slightly to gaze at his father. His father was still busily searching through papers, and Draco dared to keep asking.

"What do you mean by that, father?"

His father's hands landed on the desk quietly and he looked upward toward the door. With a roll of his eyes, he finally looked down toward the sofa, and the two pairs of blue orbs locked. "I mean," his father said slowly as if he was talking to a dumb idiot, "the true fact of life. Men are superior."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed, and his head swung back for him to look at the ceiling. His father went back to his work, but Draco wasn't satisfied yet. "How do you know?"

"Goddamnit, Draco, why do you keep asking stupid questions?"

Draco shut his mouth immediately, knowing that going any further would surely unleash his father's violent temper. His eyes still scanned the ceiling, and the nine-year-old pondered his father's words quietly. He did not truly believe them, but his father must be telling the truth. The memory of Draco's promise to his mother resurfaced, and he found himself more confused than ever.

* * *

Draco furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at the list of supplies for his first year at Hogwarts. "What sort of junk is this . . ." He twisted his face in disgust, looking at the low-rate brands that seemed so cheap and below him. He was a Malfoy, able to afford the best of everything, and he couldn't believe what the list of supplies demanded. "Well, at least I'll make sure to get a good robe, not some dusty piece of black fabric."

As he poured over the letter, he hunched a little in his desk at a corner of his room. If a person had looked at him right now, they would say he looked like his father did at work. Perhaps it was some subconscious attempt to live up to his father, but at the moment, he pondered when and where he may suggest getting the supplies. No doubt in Diagon Alley, but his father was busy this weekend . . .

A loud crash exploded behind him, and Draco jumped in surprise. His body snapped into a standing position and his chair tumbled backward as he spun around. His wide blue eyes saw the cause: a little house elf, who had been cleaning his room, hunched guiltily next to a pile of broken porcelain that used to be his mother's lamp, a birthday present one year.

"Dobby!" Draco half-breathed and half-snapped in irritation, staring down at the little elf. The house elf flinched visibly upon the mentioning of his name, and his hands trembled.

"D-D-Dobby is ver-ry sorry, M-master Draco," the animated pillow sputtered nervously, his words uneven and shaky.

"That was my mother's lamp, you bastard!" Draco spat viciously at the pile of rags, and Dobby's wide eyes failed to meet Draco's swirling orbs. Draco's hands rolled into tight fists at his sides; he had never hit the elf, but he was too close now. That lamp had been the one given to him on his ninth birthday, and although he had been disappointed, his mother told him that it would be a light in his life, and that one day he would shine as much as that lamp. Being the good but disappointed little boy, he accepted and cherished the present, but now his mother's words were scattered across the floor.

"D-Dobby is very s-sorry, Master D-Draco," the pitiful elf sobbed miserably. "Dobby will c-clean this up r-right away, s-sir, and he will p-punish himself."

Usually Draco would've only screamed at the elf, but this time, it was different. His blood boiled underneath his skin, and his brow furrowed to its fullest extent. All the bottled hatred and rage was visible in his eyes as he glared at the creature with more disgust then ever before.

"You're damn right, you'll be punished, you miserable scum!" Draco yelled at the huddled and trembling creature, and one second later his foot swung toward the elf. His foot and Dobby's skull connected, and the elf yelped helplessly as it fell over. Trembling, the creature did not even have time to get up before Draco kicked him again, this time in the stomach. Dobby's body was sailed across the floor, crashing into a wall and crumpling painfully.

Draco stood there, glaring and panting murderously at the disgusting little creature. It didn't move for a few seconds, but then Dobby groaned as his legs pulled inward in a fetal position.

"Get up," Draco snapped viciously. "Get up and clean up this mess right now or I'll have my father stick your hand in the fireplace again!"

Though it was an inhuman and terrible threat, Draco's heart thumped wildly with rage. He felt like he could do it himself if that thing didn't move right then. But the elf knew the danger of remaining on the floor, so it picked itself up slowly, tears streaking down his face.

"Y-yes, master," the elf choked through quiet sobs, and began to pick up the pieces with his bare hands. Once, a slice cut into his skin from handling them, and Dobby winced and cried harder. Once, the elf looked up at Draco, and though his face was as set with rage as ever, Draco's insides twisted.

The way that creature looked at him, with wide eyes filled with tears of sorrow and regret and begging for approval sparked a familiar memory. The elf's blood-covered hands reminded him of that night, that fateful night when he first witnessed his father's beatings, and later would experience them himself. But Dobby's trembling sobs made a twinge of regret fill Draco, though he tried to push it away.

"_I want you to promise me something, Draco. Promise me that you will never do what your father just did. Promise me that you will never hit a woman like that."_

"_I promise."_

* * *

Malfoy stood in the shadows of the Slytherin common room, watching the night sky long after he had sent his owl to his father. The tingling of the bright stars far away made him feel small and insignificant, but upon recognizing this unpleasant feeling, he brushed it aside hastily. _I am a Malfoy_, he told himself firmly. Yet the dark feeling did not disappear, and his gaze dropped to the floor. Outlined only by the shine of the pale moon, he looked like a shadow, with light outlining his shape. It fell in streaks on his blonde hair, and it reflected in his moistened eyes. All of the memories had came flooded back to him after he sent the letter about Aurora.

But there was no time for regret or weakness. Should his father see him now, he would be outraged to see his son in such a weak position. _How ironic,_ he thought to himself, _that after demonstrating how strong I am by doing that to Aurora, I've become weaker._

The thought of growing weaker disgusted him, but it did not suppress the guilt that had been planted within him and overtook him like a wild plant, grasping his heart and enveloping his limbs.

_Sorry, mother,_ Malfoy thought sourly, _but I was destined to become my father._

_

* * *

_

"What?" Harry repeated in disbelief, staring at Ron's serious face. _This is a joke, this is just some sick joke...Of course she's dead. I _saw_ her die! I practically killed her myself! _She couldn't possibly be alive now - not after all of those nightmares, those guilt-ridden thoughts, those images of her blood-covered face flashing through his memory.

"Hermione isn't dead," Ron unknowingly interrupted Harry's thoughts.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed slightly. The usual sincerity in Ron's voice rung clearly in Harry's ears, but this time, tone alone would not convince him.

"I know it sounds crazy, but it's true," Ron insisted, maintaining eye contact as if to prove that he wasn't lying. Taking this opportunity to search Ron's chocolate brown eyes for any vestigial lies, Harry found Ron's unflinching gaze to openly expose his true faith instilled in his words, words that seemed to denounce all the truths Harry had carefully chosen to believe.

Despite all of the doubts that plagued his mind, Harry found a wistful desire to be as blindly trusting as Ron was. He was so sick and tired of living in constant distrust, pain, and fear, and as Ron failed to shy away from his scrutinizing gaze, Harry began to melt into that dream-like state of trust that ignored logic. The warmth of hope invited him like the crackle of a fireplace on a winter day. "She's alive?"

"Well . . . no," came Ron's hesitant but truthful answer, and a damp look of disappointment stretched over Harry's face. The flickering candlelight within him died instantly at the answer, and Harry sunk into his familiar world of doubt. _It's just a joke. Hermione's dead. There's nothing more to it. And I was stupid to think that she could be alive. Am I that desperate?_

_Yes, _a separate and quiet voice within him replied, _you are that desperate._

His unvoiced disappointment must have thrown his expression into a pool of gloom, because Ron sensed his doubts and leaned forward urgently. "Harry, listen to me. It's really long and hard to explain, but basically, she's this ghost-like thing that can feel pain. And she's in Hogwarts right now, in some secret room somewhere called the Nesskrad Room."

Yet the scars of betrayal from earlier had not healed completely, as Ron's questionable proposal re-opened the throbbing wounds. Harry's gaze, fixated upon the ground beneath, iced over in an anger. _How dare he make stupid jokes like that? About her?_

Taking a shuddering breath, he forced himself to stay under control, and his voice remained at an eerie monotonous level. "Ron, she's dead. That's it. Quit playing around." Those short and blunt statements slipped through gritted teeth, and Harry didn't dare make eye contact with Ron, for fear of what the redhead would see in his swirling eyes.

"I'm not playing around!" The redhead suddenly cried out without warning, his apparent irritation with Harry's skepticism surfacing through his words. Surprise took Harry into its grasp as his head jerked upward to see Ron's own hardened look.

"She's . . . dead," the two words sang slowly and poisonously from Harry's mouth, for he was sick of this. He had convinced himself that Ron had betrayed him once, and if Ron continued like this, he may consider this a second time.

A frustrated sigh escaped from Ron, once again proving his sincerity. The hardness in his eyes melted upon meeting Harry's, and a desperate look washed over him instead. "Look, I know it's hard to believe. I didn't believe it myself, until Ramdeon convinced me."

One single word in Ron's last sentence made Harry's heart jerk and stop.

"Ramdeon?" A look of utter shock came over Harry as he repeated the word, staring into Ron's brown eyes as the redhead nodded. The fire that had been building within him dissolved into sorrowful understanding. _So that's what Ramdeon wanted to tell us! That's why Malfoy told me to go to the source, McGonogall's office - because Ramdeon lives there!_

The single threads of the mysterious tapestry, which he had only examined piece by piece, were beginning to weave themselves together in his mind, leaving him in wordless awe at the picture forming before his very eyes.

"Oh my god . . ." the airy words vibrated deep within Harry's throat, barely able to escape through his lips. At that moment, he ceased to doubt his best friend, and replaced that disbelief with a sense of pure pangs of regret and another wave of newfound trust.

"I know," Ron's sympathetic tone voiced an unexpressed acceptance of Harry's apology. In fact, just by the soft nod of his head, Harry felt the regret slowly slipping away. Instead, the shadow of a small smile dared to cross his lips as the words sunk in. _Hermione's here . . . she's really here . . ._

And by the faint look of joy that spread on Ron's face at the same time, Harry knew that Ron felt the same unmatched happiness that was spreading through him.

"But, Harry," Ron continued, regretfully puncturing the rare bubble of calm contentment that surrounded the pair, "What're we going to do? We can't just leave her there."

No immediate answer came. In fact, the pair sat enveloped in silence for a long time, contemplating their next move. Yet it wasn't an awkward silence; emotions washed over Harry repeatedly like the ebbing tide, her heart fluttering out of control as he attempted to regain his steady breath. The floor faded in the back of his vision, his eyes glazed over in deep thought.

_So, if Hermione's really here, then we have to see her . . . to get her out . . . we just have to. But how? We can't do it alone. We don't know where she is. But who does?_

Harry's fixated gaze on the floor shattered when a look of determination flooded his countenance. "We have to find Ramdeon," his low voice firmly declared, standing up as his eyes flickered in Ron's direction. "He helped us this far, he can help us get her out. He probably knows where she is . . ."

The thought crossed his mind again, cutting off his verbal train of words.

_Hermione._

As her face floated before his vision, a silly grin crawled below his nose, and he could no longer speak for fear of a shaky tone. Ron rose as at that moment, a smile painted on him, though his eyes wandered across Harry's luggage. Wordlessly, Harry knew why his best friend was searching, and his hand reached for his tucked away invisibility cloak. He hoped Ron didn't notice that his hand was shaking slightly from excitement.

"I'll explain more on the way," the redhead whispered urgently as the cloak tossed over himself and his friend, liquefying them into invisibility. Together, and with hearts pumping with anticipation, they set off to find the black cat.

* * *

"Where could he be?" A scratched and irritated sigh escaped from Ron after an entire hour of searching through dark hallways for Ramdeon. They had already checked in McGonogall's office, found the Professor herself there, and slipped away before being noticed - though they couldn't avoid a few suspicious glances from her in their vague direction. And though it was true that Ron had gained some respect for Ramdeon, after such a long time waiting impatiently for answers, he was getting nervous.

"I don't know, but we have to keep looking," Harry whispered officially as the pair hunched underneath the silky cloak.

"I still don't like this bloody cloak," Ron informed his partner after a few moments of silence in the dusty darkness. "It's too-"

A quiet, growling voice made Harry's blood run cold in his veins. "Who are you two looking for?"

Frantically whipping around the empty hallway, Harry silently spotted the thing they had been looking for, sitting calmly behind them and staring up with bright shining eyes.

"Ramdeon!" The pair breathed in relief, and Harry wrenched off the cloak to make them visible. He did not question the cat's ability to see them - somehow, animals could detect them better than humans. Perhaps it was a sixth sense.

"Where have you been?" Ron asked the cat, trying to catch his breath after that scare.

"I've been right behind you," Ramdeon looked at them curiously. "I saw you two walking past McGonogall's office, and decided to follow you." He tilted his head to the side. "Who are you looking for?" He repeated.

"You!" Ron cried out frustratedly, and a look of understanding and embarrassment came over the cat.

"Oh." The feline gave a shy grin, exposing his pearly white fangs.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked immediately, eager to go after her. Ron stood at his side, just as determined to get answers, but Ron's face had a sympathetic look after knowing so much about Ramdeon, whereas Harry's look was hardened.

"Hermione?" Ramdeon repeated, and then looked over them briefly. His voice lowered to a purring whisper. "You're not just going to let her out of the Nesskrad Room!"

"Why not?" The pair asked at the same time, just as their minds were focused on the same point.

Ramdeon glanced at Ron, saying, "I already told you why. Her soul hasn't adapted to this world. If you let her out now, who knows what will happen!"

"But we have to help her," Harry told Ramdeon firmly. Neither he nor Ron would rest until Hermione had been freed.

Ron added to the conversation in a more polite tone, saying, "Isn't there _something_ we could do?"

A new yet familiar feminine voice added to the conversation, a quiet one that struck the three in its surprise. "Yes, isn't there something?"

Ramdeon's eyes had grown wide as he stared past Harry and Ron, who glanced over their shoulders to see a battered brunette standing behind them.

"Aurora?" The two boys asked in disbelief, before Harry hastily continued from a distance, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Aurora sighed, her emerald eyes glazed over in a sad look that wouldn't seem to leave.

Ron was about to inquire as to how Aurora got all of those bruises staining her skin, but Harry beat him by asking, "How did you know about Hermione?"

Aurora sucked in a deep breath and avoided their gazes. "I always knew," she confessed slowly. "They told me once I got here..."

"Wait a minute," Ron interrupted, taking a step toward Aurora. "What's going on between you and Hermione? Aren't you cousins?"

Aurora's orbs glanced upward in shock at the first mentioning, but then became the same subdued sadness as before. "Yes, we're cousins," Aurora admitted in a defeated tone of voice. "But..." she took a deep breath, and began to explain. "I never even heard how Hermione died. All I knew was that she died in this special room, the Nesskrad Room. They sent for me to come here, to Hogwarts, and I had no idea why..."

Harry's eyes widened in recognition. That's what it had said in Aurora's letter. Unaware, Aurora continued.

"When I got here, they told me that I needed to do something. I needed to be her connection to this world, because somehow, she was some sort of spirit that might fade if she didn't have an anchor - so I became the anchor. It's called...blood bondage. It can only work with someone of the same family. But...it's just..." she sighed, staring at the floor as tears prickled her eyes. "It's horrible. Everything that she feels, I feels. She - she's been trying to kill herself," Aurora said quietly. "I - I felt it. I felt the life draining out of me..."

Ron immediately shook his head. Not Hermione. She wouldn't be suicidal. Aurora gave both Harry and Ron a hard look.

"You wouldn't understand. You wouldn't understand what it's like to be half-living, half-dead. It's horrible. It's like being immortal, having to live with all of this pain and suffering..." Tears almost squeezed out of her eyes. "If you don't believe me..."

Her hand reached for her sleeve and lifted it up, exposing a long, red line that ran deep through her arm. "That's the scar that she made on herself," Aurora explained in painful tears of memory, while Harry and Ron looked on in speechless disbelief at the mark.

Ron suddenly looked up at Aurora, remembering the incident in the library where Aurora's arm was sliced out of nowhere. "So that's what happened in the library!"

Aurora nodded painfully, not meeting his eyes as she took a deep breath. "She's been so depressed...I've been so depressed...sh-she wants to die. She doesn't want to live in pain anymore."

But Harry's face was overcome with determination, and he took a bold and firm step forward toward Aurora. "Can't you tell her that she'll be out soon? Comfort her?" Anger boiled within him, thinking that Hermione's cousin had left her in this condition.

"It's not like I'm some sort of prophet," Aurora said quietly. "That's not how it works. It's just like...like we're tied together emotionally. I'm supposed to be helping her get stronger that way. But..."

Before Aurora finished her sentence, both Harry and Ron knew what she was going to say. 'But Malfoy weakened me.'

Aurora would never mention anything about Malfoy; it was too painful for her. Instead, she sighed once more. "I've felt the same way she does lately."

The three others looked at her curiously, but she didn't bother to explain. Instead, she looked up in determination, her tears wiped away and her gaze hardened. "Hermione helped me through tough times. It-it wasn't the first time," Aurora confessed about Malfoy, to the shocked horror of the two boys. The image of Nathaniel flashed through Aurora's head, and she almost shuddered. "There was this guy, and he..." unable to finish the sentence, Aurora rotated the subject toward her cousin. "But Hermione helped me. She was my only friend, and she helped me get through. I-I had been suicidal, so I owe my life to her. That's why..."

She looked up at the three in unshakable determination. "That's why I have to help her."

Realization was dawning on the two boys. That was why Malfoy could get away with teasing her about it, that's why he had asked her to the ball - his father was part of the school, and knew about Hermione and the blood bondage. Therefore, if Aurora had done anything to displease him, Malfoy could expose Aurora as a traitor, someone who didn't admit her connection to Hermione. Then, Malfoy's father, a Death Eater, must have encouraged his son to torture Aurora, just like . . .

_Just like Voldemort said that he would torture everyone I cared about_, Harry thought in shock. So not only had Malfoy's attack on Aurora hurt her, but also indirectly hurt Hermione. So Hermione must've somehow been affected by Malfoy's attack . . . Harry's head spun with the insane possibilities, and his blood boiled.

Ron was equally angered by Malfoy's intervention, and unknowingly, both boys silently swore to kill Malfoy at the same time.

"Wait a minute," Harry said, turning around and facing Ramdeon. "How come no one told me or Ron about this?"

Ramdeon looked up at the pair of boys seriously. "Because of exactly this reason. They didn't want you two to get involved. You would want to free Hermione as soon as possible, and they thought that it would hurt both you and her."

And that was why Hagrid was so reluctant about telling Harry about Hermione . . . it all made sense!

"They?" Ron meanwhile asked Ramdeon. He thought that the cat would be part of the force trying to keep Hermione away from them.

Ramdeon's slits flickered in Ron's direction. "Yes, 'they'," he said firmly. "I'm not one of them. I know what Hermione's going through, and it's not fair. I think she would be better off out in this world than stuck in that room for who knows how long."

Ron's heart lifted at Ramdeon's declaration. "So, you'll help us?"

The feline gave another one of his pearly smiles. "Count me in," he said happily.

A smile grew on each Ron and Harry's face, and the shadow of happiness came across Aurora's face.

"So, what're we going to do?" Harry asked the cat. "If we can't let her out as a spirit, how can we let her escape?"

Ramdeon looked as if he had been waiting for this question for a long time. "There's only one way," he told them. "Now, you have to listen closely. Hermione's soul needs a body, an empty body in which to reside, shielded from this world before she can enter it."

"Like a cat?" Ron inquired, and Ramdeon shook his small, furry head.

"No, no, no . . . a human body."

Harry frowned in thought. "But how-"

"Me," Aurora stepped forward, and the boys were speechless.

"Yes," Ramdeon agreed quietly. "Aurora and I have been discussing this for a long time, and we both agree that it would be best-"

"Wait," Harry said, turning to Aurora in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

Aurora looked at him in her sad way, and his jaw dropped. Ron stared at Aurora, unable to believe what she was saying.

"You mean-"

"Yes," Aurora said firmly, looking at the two with a set purpose. "I really meant it when I said that I owed my life to Hermione. And I'd do anything to help her. Even give up my life."

Ron shook his head. "No, that's insane-"

Aurora rounded on him in anger. "You don't know what it's like to be in blood bondage! It's horrible! I don't feel like I'm living, Ron," she explained, looking deeply into his eyes. "I feel like I'm half-dead, like Hermione."

As Harry glanced at her eyes, he froze. They were empty, lifeless, and a shiver shot up and down his spine. She really did seem half-dead.

Aurora continued. "I don't care what you two say. I'm going to do it."

"Anyway," Ramdeon tried to draw attention to himself again, "Hermione's soul will be put in Aurora's body. But to do that, we need a powerful wizard . . ."

"Like Dumbledore?" Harry suggested, but Ramdeon shook his head furiously.

"No, Dumbledore must hear nothing about this. He wouldn't let it happen."

Ron looked confused. "Then, who?"

Ramdeon smiled widely. "Me."

That did not help the look of confusion on Ron and Harry's faces, and Ramdeon immediately explained. "There's a potion that you can make. It'll turn me into human form. Once I'm human, I'll use my magic to . . . prepare Aurora," he said carefully, unwilling to say the word 'kill', "And then I'll transport Hermione's soul into Aurora's body. But the catch is, the potion will only keep me in human form for an hour, so we have to be quick. And the other thing is when we enter the room - I must warn you, it will be very painful. Not only will you have to re-live the memory of her death, but since the room has been sealed magically for her soul to develop, a lot of physical pain is involved."

This all sounded so crazy to Harry and Ron, but they were willing to do anything to get Hermione back - and same with Aurora.

"So, when are we going to start the plan?" Harry asked, and Ramdeon gave them a serious look.

"Right now."

* * *

_Author's Note: Let us all give a round of applause to fanfiction for FINALLY supporting WordPerfect! Yaaaay! Then, let us all throw rotten tomatoes at the author of this fanfic for having left this so long! Boooo!_

_Yeah, I know it's been a while. Being in high school sucks for that reason. No free time for me, with all of my classes!_

_But, yeah, I'm still alive and kicking. Here are the answer to the LONG-DELAYED reviews..._

Jae: _Well, if you had to "wait" for the last chapter, I imagine you had to wait ten times longer for this one! Sorry, dear fan...I feel like crawling under a rock now..._

Raine is Crazy: _Hahahaha! I do torture thee with my cliff hangers!_

Laen: _I know this was a bit confusing, but I tried to explain everything this chapter...hope it makes sense now, and if you have any questions, feel free to bang me over the head with them!_

Usha88: _Yep, they're gonna let Hermione out. So close now, so close!_

Noone: _I assure you, I'm not going to let this story rot. I know, I left it for a while, but now that my life's back under "moderate" control, I'll be writing more. Thanks for reviewing!_

Inylan: _Ha, I think Jae might just object to that "scholarly" thing...Oh, I forgot to worship her for introducing this fic to her friend. Whoops. Gotta do that next time. Thanks for the review!_

Sister of Hermione: _Wow. That was so long ago, I don't even remember it. Yaaay, now you don't have to kill me when I invade your house! I've updated, see, see!_

Padfoot: _Like I said before, you pick the pairing! And the story's almost over. GASPGASPHORROR!_

UPDATE NOW!!_: ...Heh, well, right now is kinda close to when you requested, wasn't it? Heheheheh...notreallyyeahIknow...thanks for reviewing!_


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